


The Brawler

by Jakobre_the_Writer



Category: RWBY
Genre: Action, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Sports, Angst, Bumbleby - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, Metioned/Referenced Abuse, Romance, Smoking, Some sports related violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 79,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakobre_the_Writer/pseuds/Jakobre_the_Writer
Summary: Yang Xiao Long was content. Being a bar tender at the Blazing Rose was not that bad of a life, really. She had everything she needed, a loving family, a good job, and a place to live. But hanging over all that wonderful contentment, looming ever present in the background of her life is that one overwhelming force that dominates the lives of millions around the world-Sports!And what better sport to watch every Saturday than the single most violent sport ever seen in Remnant: Deathsticks. Yang had never wanted any more to do with the sport than to overhear conversations from its fans while she worked, but fate turns on the little things. A pair of whiskeys for one Winter Schnee didn't seem like much a big deal, at first.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 104
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> References to alcohol in this chapter.  
> See the end of the chapter for more detailed notes.

Yang loved the interior of the Blazing Rose, the third finest bar in Patch. The whole building was a lovingly handcrafted log cabin, nearly hidden by a barricade of trees. It had been a run down wreck when Yang’s father had found the place. He never explained why he’d bothered to rebuild it from the ground up, only that it kept him busy and out of trouble. That was all that Yang could really ask of him these days. By the end of its reconstruction, with plenty of help from Yang and her sister Ruby, the building was a shining beacon of hard work and dedication, a picturesque vision of country simplicity, from the dirt road out front to the chicken coop out back.  


The interior was just as rustic as the outside, all wood paneling and hand crafted tables and chairs. The walls were decorated with various hunting trophies that the Rose-Xiao Long family had bagged over the years, or bought in the market. The bar dominated the main room, with nearly a dozen beers on tap and plenty of mixed drinks. A double sided door led to the kitchen where Tai and Ruby worked tirelessly to keep up with their hungry customers. The only thing that drew more attention than the magnificent bar was the bartender herself, one Yang Xiao Long. She was a marvel behind the bar, keeping the usual suspects entertained with stories and jokes while never missing a refill or the copious tips people left behind. Starting out had been rough, after all Yang had only worked professionally as a clerk in a small corner store and then as a ranger in the Patch Nature Reserve. Still, the years had been kind to both the Blazing Rose’s longevity and Yang’s ability as a bartender. Gone was the fumbling, halting amateur, now Yang was a master mixologist and conversationalist. Then again, it was easy to be a good conversationalist when half your clientele was glued to the huge TV that hung over the bar. The sight of it always made Yang frown.  


It wasn’t that she disliked the tv, it kept people in their seats and buying drinks, it was more the content her father chose to put on the thing. Six days a week it was either boring crime dramas or the late night news. On Saturdays, every Saturday, the entire bar was entranced by the Remnant International Deathsticks League.  


Deathsticks was a bit like if hockey had a baby with roller derby and then said baby decided that it wanted to be even more violent than either of its parents. The goal of the game was to get a ball from one side of the arena to the other and score in the opponent’s goal with sticks all while avoiding getting knocked out cold by the opposing team. Ideally one team would score higher than the other before the game ended. Of course, the game hadn’t been given the name Deathsticsk for nothing. A long time ago, when the sport was still in its infancy, one of the founding players had said, “The opposing team can’t win if they’re all in the hospital,” and it had been downhill from there. Players were welcome, encouraged even, to brutalize one another in the arena, punching, tackling, swinging their titular deathsticks, and overall brawling with one another. To keep the game a game rather than a fight, the violence had been toned down, slightly. What once had been a mad scramble for the ball and the goal was now more specialized. A typical Deathsticks team was made up of four positions:  


Strikers were experts at moving the ball around the arena, weaving in and out of the opposing players, dancing with the ball, and finally delivering a stunning finale with a goal.  


Screeners were the defensive line, and made up the majority of the players. Their job was to keep most of the attention off of the Strikers and engage in passing plays if the match demanded it.  


Goaltenders, well, tended the goals. Most also served as defensive coordinators for the team.  


Finally, there were the Brawlers. Brawlers were not supposed to have the ball for long, at all in fact. They were in the arena for the sole purpose of obliterating the opposing team, both in legal body checks and stick hits and also in bare knuckles fights when things got too heated. The standard play was to assign one Brawler to one Striker, to act as a bodyguard of sorts.  


While Yang couldn’t stand this kind of senseless violence, she also couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of her patrons as she worked.  


“Who’s on tonight?” one asked as Yang slid them a bottle of Port’s Port.  


“Beacon Bumblebees against Grimm Grindhouse,” said another as they nursed a beer.  


“Gods alive, the Bees’ll get slaughtered.”  


“I dunno, they’ve got a good pair of Strikers.”  


“Yeah, but they haven’t had a good Brawler for two seasons.”  


“Oof, yeah. That was a real bad match.”  


The first person nodded in agreement then the two went back to watching the game. Yang replaced the beer and dropped off a hot plate of Nevermore wings for the pair, then asked,  


“What happened? That bad match you mentioned?” She didn’t really care, but if people were talking they were staying in their seats. That meant they were drinking, and that meant more alcohol got sold.  


“What, you didn’t see? It was all over the sports networks,” the second speaker said before diving into the wings.  


“No, no, I was too busy doing things around the bar,” Yang replied, deflecting the question away with practiced ease, “So what happened?”  


“Well,” the first one said and pointed at the screen, “you see that one in black? Number 83?” Yang nodded in affirmation and the first speaker continued, “That’s Cinder Fall, Grimm Grindhouse’s Brawler. She’s one of the best in the whole league, some people say the best ever.” The speaker returned to their drink for a moment, but it was long enough for the second speaker to pipe up.  


“The Bees used to have the best Brawler in the league back in the day, number 19. Pyrrha Nikos, you heard of her?”  


Yang replaced the bottle of Ports Port with some Oobleck’s Specialty Spiced Rum. People always said they went well together, and the customers seemed to agree. “I recognize the name. Something about being a goddess in the arena?” she said, repeating a generalized statement she’d overheard from some other customers years ago.  


“Damn right she was,” the second speaker said.  


“Could play every position, even Goaltender,” said the first.  


“Then Cinder Fall joined the league,” grumbled the second, which made the first curse under their breath. “She’d been making headlines for a while at that point, but this was what secured her career.”  


“What’d she do?” Yang asked, “Take down Pyrrha Nikos?”  


“That’s a way of putting it.”  


“Almost killed her, more like.”  


“One hit in the bottom of the first half, and Nikos was done for good.”  


“Nearly broke her spine if I remember correctly.”  


“Gods alive,” Yang muttered,  


“Yeah. After that Fall just kept rising and Nikos had to retire. Real shame too, it was only her third season. The Bees have been skating through because of their Goaltender and Strikers but their Brawlers have been-Oh shit, Fall’s going in for the kill!” the second speaker shouted. Suddenly the whole bar was alive with movement as people crowded around the tv to watch. Even Yang turned to look as the shouts of the crowd became nearly indistinguishable.  


“Who’s she going for?”  


“Number 27! Belladonna, the Striker!”  


“She might dodge-nope she messed up!”  


“Here it comes!”  


The whole room shouted and then hissed in collective vicarious pain as number 83, Cinder Fall, body slammed number 27, Blake Belladonna, against and then over the barrier around the side of the Deathsticks arena. The match ground to a halt as the announcers, the same Port and Oobleck who had such successful alcohol businesses, recovered from their own shock.  


“Ooh, and it looks like Belladonna’s going to struggle getting past Fall in this match!” Port shouted, nearly startling the almost silent bar. Oobleck’s lightning fast, excited voice picked up the pace.  


“She might be in trouble from that hit alone-yes, yes, the referee is calling for a medic!”  


“We can see them running over now,” Port continued, “She took a nasty hit from number 83.”  


“The medics are gathering round and it looks like they're calling something. Yes, we can confirm, number 27, Blake Belladonna is out cold. Medics are signalling that she’s probably suffered a concussion.”  


“What a shame for such a star! Still, she’s young, at least she’ll be back in the arena soon.”  


“Indeed. We’ll take a quick break, and then return with more exciting Deathsticks action!”  


The medics put number 27 on a stretcher and started to carry her out of the arena, giving the whole world a good look at the nasty series of cuts and bruises on the side of her face. The tv switched to commercials and the whole bar groaned in protest before heading back to their seats. As Yang idly watched the commercials go by, she reflected on what a shame it was that such a beautiful young woman should be injured like that.  


Still, there was no time for thoughts like that. There were patrons to serve and tables to clear. It was a busy night in the Blazing Rose. 

Six months had gone by since that night. Every day Yang was hard at work in the Blazing Rose and every Saturday she half listened to the conversations about Deathsticks and the preseason matches on tv. The new season was almost upon the league, and the bar was excited. Most of the conversation was about Blake Belladonna’s triumphant return to the Deathsticks arena and how the Bees still hadn’t found a good Brawler to protect her. Yang thought that she would love to protect someone as pretty as Blake Belladonna, but would always push the thought aside. There was work to do.  


Throughout it all was a simmering excitement, especially today. The Bees were playing a friendly match against the Patch Pricklebears. Patch’s team was from the minor leagues, and wasn’t especially popular or terribly good, but it was a home game. That meant that the Beacon Bumblebees were in Patch for the night, and even if most people would never see them it was still exciting.  


Most of the regular Saturday crowd was gone, at the aforementioned match, and the Blazing Rose was nearly empty. A few gruff looking, and very drunk, characters lingered around the edges but not many. Yang didn’t have much to do by the end of the night, turning just in time to see that the Beacon Bumblebees had, unsurprisingly, soundly beaten the Patch Pricklebears. Yang shrugged and started to clean the bar.  


She had gotten through the bar itself and most of the tables when the chime above the door rang out as someone entered. Looking up she found herself dumbstruck by the white haired and blue eyed Atlesian beauty before her. Still, it wasn’t really her looks that stopped Yang in her tracks but rather who the person was. In all her time half watching 

Deathsticks matches, even Yang could recognize Winter Schnee, coach of the Beacon Bumblebees. After taking a moment to collect herself, Yang said,  


“Hi! Welcome to the Blazing Rose. Feel free to take a seat wherever, we’re pretty empty tonight.”  


Winter Schnee made her way straight to the bar and waited with poised grace as Yang took up her usual post.  


“What can I get for y-”  


“Ironwood Whiskey. Neat.”  


“Sure thing,” Yang said cheerily, the happy smile wiping away as she ducked behind the bar. The least someone as famous as Winter Schnee could do was say please. Plastering the smile back on, Yang emerged with a gorgeous brown bottle and poured a healthy serving of the rich whiskey into a waiting shot glass. No sooner had she stopped pouring than did Schnee snatch the glass and down it all in one go. She let out a satisfied sigh, then said,  


“Thanks. Sorry for being so rude.”  


Yang waved it away and refilled the expectant glass before saying, “I wouldn’t expect someone who just won a Deathsticks match to be drinking alone. Don’t you have a team to celebrate with?”  


Schnee smiled slightly, ever so quickly, then it was gone, lost behind her ever cold exterior. “So you watched the match?”  


“A little,” Yang replied with a shrug, “I was busy.”  


“Good. Then you didn’t see how sloppy it was.”  


Yang looked up confused, filling the glass a third time. “Sloppy? Didn’t you win?”  


Winter nodded as she drank, then pushed the glass aside. “Yes, we did. But it could’ve been, should’ve been, better. I mean between Nora charging every Striker she sees and leaving the goal open and Blake being too scared to make a rush I don’t know what to-” she stopped short, as if realizing where she was all over again. “Sorry,” she said with just a hint of sheepishness, “I didn’t mean to say all that.”  


“Don’t worry about it. That’s hardly the worst thing I’ve even been told in this place.”  


The two women laughed, though Winter’s laugh seemed just a bit too formal for Yang’s liking. There was a long moment of silence as Winter toyed with her shot glass, then she said, “What’s your name?”  


“Yang,” Yang said, extending a hand to be shaken.  


“Winter Schnee,” Winter replied as the two shook, “but you already knew that.” Yang chuckled good naturedly at that and put the bottle of whiskey away. Winter Schnee sat in silence as she watched Yang clean a bit more, then acted almost surprised as Yang asked,  


“So what are you doing out here? It’s a good way from the stadium.”  


“Oh, it’s not that bad, and this place had good reviews. Besides, I wanted a quieter place to celebrate.”  


Before Yang could reply or thank someone like Winter Schnee for coming all this way, there was a heavy thud as the lecherous form of a drunken man appeared next to Winter.  


“You-yous wanna cel-shelebrate wiv me?” he slurred, nearly falling over then and there  


“No thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be left alone,” Winter said, her response nearly a growl.  


“Thas...thas...bu’ wes can be alone togever?”  


Winter whirled around to say something harsher than no, finger in the air already for extra emphasis, but Yang was faster. Before the man could react she had his arms around his back and wrenched him towards the door.  


“C’mon, go home. You’re too drunk,” she said. The man tried to struggle, but to no avail. As the two neared the door Yang let the man go. He stumbled a few steps ahead before turning around in rage.  


“Now you lishen here you lil...lil bish!”  


Yang shrugged idly and said, “Either get out or I’ll knock you out. Your choice.”  


The man surged forwards a step before Yang clocked him with a right hook. He spun around, spat out a tooth, and collapsed in the doorway. Yang let out a sigh and looked around the bar. “Anyone know this guy?” Someone in the back timidly raised their hand and Yang said, “Get him home and make sure he doesn’t die.” As the blonde barkeep returned to the bar the drunk man was being helped up and out the door. “Sorry about that,” Yang said, “I should’ve kicked him out hours ago.”  


“It’s fine,” Winter said with an amused smile on her face. “At least you were there to protect me.” As she said this a contemplative look spread across her face and she stroked her chin in thought. Yang stood there in the silence for a moment before beginning to clean again. She had hardly finished the first glass when Winter said, “Have you ever thought about joining a Deathsticks team?”  


Yang looked over cautiously, slowly placing the now clean glass back on the bar. “Not really. I had always thought of myself as more of a barkeep than a Deathsticks player.”  


Winter nodded knowingly and stood, throwing down more than enough Lien to cover her drinks. “Understandable. Have a good night.” With that she made her way for the door and Yang continued cleaning.  


Or rather, she would have had a thought not suddenly forced its way to the front of her mind. She turned to see Winter Schnee at the door and blurted out, “What position?”  


Winter pantomimed thinking again, almost mockingly this time. “Oh, I don’t know. Brawler maybe?” Yang took a step back in shock, nearly dropping a glass. This only brought a bemused smile to Winter’ face. “Give it some thought. I’ll call in a few days to get your answer.” Then she stepped back out into the night.  


As the door closed the kitchen door swung open and Ruby came busting out, red hair in a net, grease and flour stains all over her apron. “Yang!” she shouted, “What was all that shouting? Are you okay?”  


“I...I mean, yeah?” Yang mumbled. This was going to take more than a few days to think over. 

“She asked you what?” Ruby shouted, jittery with excitement. If it wasn’t for the plate of food on her lap she would’ve leapt up and danced around the room. She hadn’t touched a piece of her dinner, even after working all night.  


Yang was slumped over the bar, head on her arms as she explained, for the fourth time, what had happened. “She asked me to join the Beacon Bumblebees. I mean, she didn’t say that but that’s what she meant.” She kept her eyes on Ruby, hoping that seeing her shake with pure unadulterated joy would cut through the shock that had taken control of her body in the past few days. The offer hadn’t really sunk in until a day or two after that night when Winter Schnee had come into her life. It had been another normal day at the bar, with the serious exception that the bar received a call midway through. Yang had been too busy to get it, rushing back and forth between customers on either side of the bar with drinks and breaking up a brewing fight between a woman and her inattentive date. Ruby had poked her head out the door and yelled,  


“Yang! Just got a message from someone named Sneeze or something like that. She wanted to know if you remembered her offer from the night before and that she was gonna call later.”  


Yang had nearly frozen in place, but years of practice kept her feet moving and her hands slinging drinks. Without so much as a glance she yelled back, “We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Ruby must’ve shrugged and headed back to the kitchen, but Yang could only imagine what her sister had thought about that call. Still, it was easy to push the thought aside as she buried herself in work. Working always kept her mind off of anything she didn’t want to think about. It was one of the best parts about bar tending at the Burning Rose.  


After all the customers had left Taiyang, Yang and Ruby’s father, had thrown together a meal for the three of them. They were gathered at the bar, sitting in silence, when Ruby had brought up the call. Yang had fumbled the explanation so badly in between chewing and Ruby’s constant interruptions that she had to give it all over again. Then her father had asked again, just to make sure that he had heard right.  


Now that the fourth time through was finally over everyone seemed to have grasped the gravity of the situation.  


“So,” Tai said slowly, “You’re joining a Deathsticks team?”  


“No!” Yang yelped, almost offended at the thought, “Of course not. I mean, I don’t think I am.” She smiled sheepishly at her weak deflection. That seemed to relax Tai, who Yang hadn’t realized was sitting rigidly in his seat next to her.  


“Good. I was worried you were going to run off and throw away your degree,” he said, then took another bite of his food. Yang sighed, poking at her meal. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Her father was an excellent cook, but her appetite had run off the moment that the question of her joining a Deathsticks team was broached.  


“I mean, it’s not a much better use of that degree working here,” she mumbled. That got Tai to look up again and narrow his eyes. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” Yang said, “I’m just...thinking. I got a degree in evolutionary biology and I don’t think that working in a bar is any more closely related to that than Deathsticks. Besides, you said yourself that I should get a better job, move away from Patch.”  


It was a conversation that she and Tai had plenty of times over the past few years. Tai wanted what was best for his girls, but he had also needed help with the bar. Yang couldn’t just abandon her family like that, move to some far away city and pretend that she didn’t have any other choice. Besides, she liked working at the bar, she liked working with her family.  


But she couldn’t deny how good it had felt to get away from the old hometown, find somewhere entirely new and forge a life for herself. Her undergrad at Beacon, the same Beacon the Deathsticks team took their name after, had shown her so much of the world outside of Patch. She had loved being in the center of things, not the city so much but a life that she had created, far from the people that knew her as a baby and were always saying ‘I remember when you were this tall!’. The original plan had been to find a job using her degree, stay in Beacon for a while working odd jobs until she could get something permanent but that hadn’t worked out. By the time that she had returned home, jobless and juggling student debt, the job at the bar was exactly what she needed to tide herself over. Now though,  


“It’s an opportunity for me to get out of Patch and see the world. You know that Deathsticks teams travel all over,” Yang said, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself more than her father. Tai remained unconvinced, saying,  


“I meant that you should get a job at a lab or something, go to conferences in Atlas and things like that. This is...different. It’s a dangerous game.”  


“Dad, I tried!” Yang said, exasperated, “I haven’t stopped looking for a job in my field since I got back here, but it's been years. No one’s biting. But now I’ve finally got a chance to get into the next part of my life…” She trailed off, watching for Tai’s reaction. He had placed his fork down onto his place and folded his arms across his chest, one eyebrow raised. “Besides, I can handle myself! I’m tough, you know that.”  


“Yang, beating up bullies for Ruby in elementary school isn’t the same as being a Brawler.”  


“Hey!” Ruby cut in, “Those bullies deserved it for stealing my cape!” For a moment the family laughed together, but the sound died out as Tai took a deep breath.  


“What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, but Yang heard the undertone of his words. Don’t get hurt, don’t make me lose you too.  


“If it got to be too much, I could always come home. I haven’t signed a contract or anything,” Yang said, and gently reached out a hand to grab Tai’s. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she reciprocated.  


“So you do want to join! Oh, that’d be so cool! I’d get to watch you play every Saturday, and could tell people that my sister’s on the team at school next year!” Ruby shouted, finally leaping up and dashing over to hug Yang. The empty plate was, thankfully, on the bar as she bolted up and collided with Yang, arms wrapped tight around her chest. If Yang hadn’t had years worth of experience, she would’ve gone crashing to the floor but growing up with Ruby had taught her how to stand up to the flying tackles that Ruby called hugs.  


“Hang on, I haven’t said that I’m joining anything yet,” Yang said, and then reached up to ruffle Ruby’s hair, the other hand darting out and tickling the girl’s stomach. Ruby shrieked and flung herself away, hands covering her stomach in betrayal.  


“No fair, I was hugging you!” Ruby shouted, then dove back at her sister, trying desperately to worm her hands up to Yang’s side. Yang saw it coming and flung herself off the bar stool, avoiding Ruby’s hands. With one smooth motion, she wrapped her arms around Ruby’s waist and hoisted her up, slinging her over her shoulders in triumph.  


“You should always expect a tickle attack. Haven’t I taught you anything?” she chided, and Ruby responded by tickling Yang’s back. The blonde felt the laughter burst out of her and she collapsed to one knee as Ruby wriggled free and rolled away. Yang whirled around to face her sister, the two sizing each other up for a moment.  


“Don’t break anything this time,” Tai said as he began to clean up their dishes. The two sisters nodded quickly in understanding, then charged at one another.  


They were no more than a foot apart when the phone rang. Yang stepped out of her sister’s way and stood with the grace of a ballet dancer, which sent Ruby crashing to the ground. The younger sister might have whipped around and continued the attack had Yang not already picked up the phone.  


“This is the Burning Rose, sorry to say that we’re closed already. But we’ll be open again tomorrow at three, so feel free to call back then!” The cheerfulness in her voice was the same practiced, canned speech that her customers knew so well. The voice on the other side was not one of her customers.  


“I apologize for calling so late. My name is Winter Schnee. Is Yang available to talk with me?”  


Yang balked, a ball forming in her throat as she realized that this was the call back Ruby had mentioned earlier in the night. “Uh, speaking.”  


“Oh,” Winter said with an amused tone, “Hello. I was wondering if you had considered my offer.”  
“Y-yes, your offer!” Yang muttered. Ruby had leaned towards her to try and listen in, gleefully shifting from foot to foot. In truth, this was the first time that Yang had any time to truly consider the offer.  


“Indeed. What do you say? Do you want to join the team?” It was a crazy idea. Ludicrous. Absolutely absurd.  


“Of course!” Yang said, the words springing from her mouth almost too quickly to consider their implications. Ruby squealed as quietly as she could and dashed off to tell their father.  


There was a long silence on the other side of the line, a silence that Yang could almost describe as victorious. “Excellent. Come to the Beacon Aerodome in two days, at six o’clock sharp. We’ll discuss your contract.”  


“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’ll be there,” Yang stammered. There was a click as Winter hung up. Yang slowly put the phone back on the receiver as Ruby came thundering back around the bar for another hug. Yang was almost too dumbfounded by her own actions to brace for the hit, but muscle memory served her well. As Ruby excitedly talked about how cool it would be to have a sister on a Deathsticks team, Yang tried to comprehend exactly what she had just agreed to.  


All she really knew was that she needed to be in Vale in two days. She could do that much, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang finally arrives in Vale, ready for a meeting with Winter Schnee. With luck, Yang will soon be part of the Beacon Bumblebees, though she has plenty of doubts about her new position. Maybe a crash course in being a Deathsticks player will change her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, on Friday like promised!

Yang hadn’t been in Vale for years, not since she’d graduated from Beacon. No matter how many years had passed however, it was the same old bustling place she remembered. The sidewalks were crowded by people going about their days, cars honked in the streets, vendors hawked their wares from their food stalls and tables, all kept within the comfortable confines of the towering jungle of concrete and steel that made the city what it was. Above it all was the Beacon Aerodome, a spectacular feat of engineering that left an entire stadium suspended above the city. In ages past it had been used as a gladiatorial arena, then a place for bands to entertain tens of thousands at a time, then somewhere for the sports teams from Beacon to practice. Now it had returned to its roots, in a way, as the official Deathsticks arena of the Beacon Bumblebees. 

Yang almost had to force herself to hop out of the cab and start walking towards the visitor’s entrance to the Aerodome. She still had all her things, at least enough to get her through a week, in a bag slung over her shoulders. Part of her hoped that she wouldn’t need to use any of it, that her meeting with Winter would go so poorly that she’d get put on the first bus back to Patch. The other part of her, however, the part that had driven her to accept the offer in the first place, was upset that she hadn’t brought more with her. After all, if this went well she’d be living in Vale for a while. 

With a conscious effort, she put the two warring parts of her mind aside and focused on the double doors that lead to the visitor’s center beneath the Aerodrome. The doors were flanked by a pair of security guards, who seemed like they regretted wearing black on such a warm spring evening. Yang waved as she approached the pair, who stood up a bit straighter now that someone was approaching.

“Hey there!” she called out, preparing to give the explanation she’d been rehearsing for the two hour bus ride from Patch to Vale. 

“Sorry ma’am,” one of them called out, “We’re not accepting visitors today. No press either, so you can take that camera setup home with you.” They gestured to Yang’s bag, which made her pause. They hadn’t acted like this in rehearsal.

“Uh, no, I’m not-I’m not a visitor or press,” Yang stammered, trying to get back on track. The guard looked about to speak again, but Yang was faster, “I have an appointment with Winter Schnee, for six o’clock.”

That made the guard hesitate. He lifted a radio to his lips and said, “Hey, Bean, we got someone out here who says they have an appointment with Miss Schnee?”

There was a long pause, then a voice crackled over the radio, “What’s their name?”

“What’s your name, kid?” the guard asked, looking at Yang out of the corner of his eye.

“Yang. Yang Xiao Long,” she responded, and the guard relayed the information over the radio. There was another long pause, then the same voice came back,

“Yeah. Search her and send her up.”

The guard put the radio away and waved Yang forwards. “We’ll need to do a pat down and search your bag. Standard stuff.”

“Sounds good to me,” Yang said, sliding the bag off her shoulders as she approached. The second guard took her bag, zipping it open to check inside while the first one checked her for anything hidden on her person. Finding nothing, he backed up respectfully and asked,

“You got anything in there?”

“Nope,” the second guard said, zipping up the bag and passing it back to Yang, “just clothes and things. You’ll want floor five.”

“Big bag for clothes. You moving in somewhere?” the first guard asked as he pushed open the door to the visitor center.

“We’ll see how this meeting goes,” Yang said, trying to force a semblance of confidence into her voice. The guards didn’t seem convinced. The door swung shut behind her and Yang made a beeline for the elevator. The moment she was inside and the door closed behind her she let out a heavy breath and pressed the button for floor five.

As the elevator ascended the long tube that led up to the Aerodrome, the anxiety that had almost made Yang turn around at the door came back full force. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t join a Deathsticks team, her family needed her. She had a life in Patch, people she knew, a steady job, everything. It would make more sense for her to just push the main floor button and head right back home. Yes, that’s what she wou-

The elevator stopped at floor three and the door slid open to reveal a woman with piercing green eyes and a shock of orange hair, dressed in a comfortable, if puffy, shirt and green skirt with a small folder tucked under her arm. She smiled, wide and genuine, before saying, “Hello! Are you heading up?”

“Yeah, to floor five,” Yang said. That made the woman nod happily and step into the elevator behind her. “What floor do you need?”

“Oh, no worries. I’m heading to floor five too! I have to drop these papers off with the coach before I head home for the day,” the woman said, patting the folder proudly with a stiff, almost robotic motion.

“The coach? So you play with the Bumblebees?” Yang asked, finding the woman easy to talk to, if a bit strange. 

“I do! I’m Penny Polendina, number 65.” She stuck out a hand for Yang to shake, which she did happily. The waif thin woman nearly crushed Yang’s hand as they shook, forcing Yang to wring out her hand to get some feeling back. “I apologize for that. My teammates say I don’t know my own strength.”

“Yeah,” Yang replied through a grimace, “I bet they do.”

“Thank you!” Penny said, though Yang wasn’t sure if she meant that as a compliment. “So what are you here for?”

“Me? I’m meeting with Winter Schnee.”

“You must be the new player she told me about!” Penny shouted excitedly, turning to face Yang entirely, suddenly full of energy in a way that even Ruby would have found remarkable. 

“What?” Yang asked, a bit shocked, “She told you about me? I haven’t joined yet, I’m just meeting her for now.”

“Oh yes, she was very excited to find you! She said that you might be the Brawler we’ve been looking for.”

“That might be a stretch,” Yang said. Before either of them could say anything, the elevator stopped at floor five to reveal a crisp, clean, and professional looking hallway that wouldn’t have been out of place in a law office. Penny immediately reached out and grabbed Yang’s hand, dragging her out of the elevator and down the hall. “Wait!” Yang yelped, but Penny didn’t listen, barrelling down the hallway at lightning speed and stringing the blonde woman behind her. They turned left, right, left, left, and then a dozen other ways that Yang lost count of. As best she could figure, the maze of office spaces spread through the entire underbelly of the Aerodome. 

Finally they arrived at a plain looking door with a shaded window and Penny came to a screeching halt, Yang stumbling over her own feet to keep from slamming into her. The only indication that the room beyond was of any importance was the placard on the door- Winter Schnee, Coach. Penny knocked lightly as Yang checked her watch. 5:47. Not a bad start to the meeting, she supposed. 

Yang immediately recognized the voice that emanated out from behind the door as Winter’s, which said, “Come in.” Penny pushed open the door and nearly threw Yang into the room. It was a sleek and modern office with all the trappings, including a levitating desk and a pair of holographically projected computer screens. Behind the desk were several bookshelves, all of which were filled to the brim, and every open spot of wall was covered in awards. Only half appeared to belong to the team, the other half to Winter herself. Winter was seated in a chair behind the desk, fingers steepled as she watched Yang collect herself.

“Hello Coach Schee! I have the analytics you wanted from the last match.” Penny said, triumphantly placing the foder she had been so preciously carrying onto the desk, in a waiting pile of papers labeled ‘In’. “And look who I found in the elevator.”

“Thank you, Penny,” Winter said, gracefully taking the folder and giving it a cursory once over, “I’ll be sure to read through it before practice tomorrow.” That seemed to be the end of the conversation, a signal that Penny understood. She gave Yang one more friendly smile, then slipped out the door. As the door clicked closed, Winter said, “Sit down, Yang.” She flicked a switch and a collection of metal pieces detached from the desk and assembled themselves into something that resembled a chair. Yang didn’t really trust it, but she sat regardless. As she did, Winter spoke again, “Thirteen minutes early. You have good manners. I’m surprised you came, honestly. You didn’t sound entirely convinced over the phone.”

Yang nodded, but knew it wasn’t the place for her to speak just yet. Winter had more to say.

“Let me be frank with you, Yang,” 

Yang bit back reminding the coach that her name was Winter,

“Most of the team isn’t comfortable with bringing on someone new, especially someone who’s never played before. Rookies usually have to rise up through the minor league to get to this level, and by then they have years of experience in the arena. So you’ll forgive them for being a bit trepidatious at having you on the team.” It was a command more than a request. “Since you haven’t played before, you’ll need extra practice. I don’t like teaching people the basics, so I’ll assign someone to you tomorrow. You’ll also need to learn how to handle yourself in a fight during a match. We both know you can throw a punch, but it’s a different world in the arena. I already have several excellent candidates picked out. I expect professionalism, Yang. I’m taking a big risk bringing you onto the team, and I will not hesitate to kick you off if you disappoint me. Is that clear?” Yang nodded quickly. “Good. Any questions?”

Yang thought for a moment, then said, “Why are you going through all this trouble for me? I mean, like you said I’ve never played before. I’m basically a nobody anyway. What’s in it for you?”

An amused flicker appeared in Winter’s eyes, then was gone just as quickly. “I think you have potential, Yang. Besides, if you can knock out a Deathsticks player as well as you can knock out a drunk, you’ll be the best Brawler we’ve had for a long while.” Yang struggled to find something to say, giving up before it became too obvious. Winter seemed to have noticed regardless. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small card, sliding across the desk to Yang. “This is your hotel. The room is good for two weeks, at which point we’ll see if you make the cut. “

“I thought I was signing a contract today?”

“I said we were going to discuss your contract. And now we have.” That made Yang uncomfortable, a feeling of being cheated seeping into her bones. “You’ll be back here at seven in the morning tomorrow for personal practice, then work with the team from nine to five. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.” Winter concluded, gesturing for Yang to stand. 

There it was, the same implicit end to the conversation that Winter was so good at conveying. As Yang left the office, she decided that if things went well she would ask for training on that as well.

  
  


A good night’s sleep is the crucible by which good days are forged. With the power of a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, even the worst days don’t seem to hurt as badly. Many great strides in history have been founded on the principle of being well rested. Unfortunately, Yang was anything but when she arrived back at the Beacon Aerodome the next morning. 

She had gone to bed early enough, with plenty of time to sleep so she would be ready for the next day, but she just couldn’t find it in her to fall asleep. It wasn’t the hotel, the place was nice, a far cry better than anything that Patch had to offer. The bed was soft and giving, the pillows freshly fluffed, and the sheets warm and welcoming. None of it had helped. Instead, Yang spent most of the night staring up at the ceiling, still conflicted if she really wanted to even be on a Deathsticks team. She knew that she could just walk up to Winter tomorrow and tell her that it wouldn’t work out. It would be disappointing, for everyone involved, but it would be a temporary setback. Besides, she would never see any of these people again if she left today, so it really was no harm, no foul.

But she knew that she would never be able to live it down if she left now, even if she was the only one who really cared. It would be a stain on her otherwise excellent record of responsibilities, and she was well aware that the thought would keep her up at night for years to come. So she stayed the night, forcing herself to sleep at least a few hours.

The only perk to being up at six thirty the next morning was being able to eat the complimentary breakfast. That and coffee, anyway. Yang wasn’t a huge coffee drinker, but long nights doing her undergrad had taught her to rely on the stuff in a pinch. With luck, she wouldn’t crash during practice.

Practice. The word didn’t feel right just yet. All things considered, Yang would have preferred the term crash course. Still, as she entered the Aerodome and made her way to the elevator, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement in the core of her being, like a flame fighting against the oppressive smog of anxiety and worry. At the very least she would learn something new, even if she didn’t make the team. 

Her destination was the arena on floor six, as the card from Winter had said. As the doors opened, Yang stared agape at the stadium in front of her. 

The entire thing was massive, built to fit over a hundred thousand people in stands that seemed to go on forever. The arena itself was two hundred and fifty feet long, by 85 feet wide with two goals on each end, a veritable lake of skating tile. The marking lines were freshly redone, judging by the smell of paint in the air. One of the goals sported a cutout of a Goaltender, complete with a snarling expression. In the middle of it all, idly skating while she read what appeared to the Deathsticks rulebook, was number 27, Blake Belladonna, as denoted by the black and yellow Beacon Bumblebees uniform she wore. 

Yang was polite enough to snap her gaping jaw shut when she noticed the woman. She was even more beautiful in person, a proper siren at sea with long, silky, black hair done up in a bow, athletic build, piercing amber eyes, and a pair of cat ears on her head. One of the ears twitched and she looked up with a soft, “Hmm?” Upon seeing Yang, she called out, “Coach! She’s here!” before going back to her reading, not paying Yang any mind.

“Ah. Good,” said Winter, emerging from the stands. She looked as prim and proper as ever, dressed in a sharp white and blue suit. Yang smiled awkwardly as she waited for Winter to continue, “You’ll need these,” she said, indicating a pair of skates, which sat next to a pile of safety pads, a helmet, and a deathstick. Yang nodded hurriedly and ran over to start putting things on, doing her best to seem as professional as she could while not wasting any time. Fortunately, putting everything on was fairly straightforward, and fit surprisingly well. As she put on the pads, she asked, 

“So, Miss Schnee,”

“Coach Schnee in the arena,” Winter cut her off in a tone that brokered no argument. Yang cleared her throat nervously,

“Coach Schnee, you said someone was going to teach me?”

“I did. Miss Belladonna here will be your personal trainer.”

That got the player’s attention, and Blake snapped her head up from her book so quickly it looked like she might break something. “What?” she yelled in indination, cat ears flat on her head, slamming her book closed. “I thought I was here for shooting practice, not to teach some rookie.”

“You’re an excellent shot, Blake,” Winter said in an attempt to placate the agitated player, but was interrupted when Blake said,

“But why me? Nora loves teaching new people, she could do it.”

Winter’s eyes narrowed dangerously, almost forcing Yang to look away and making Blake visibly shrink as the coach gave her a withering glare. “We both know why I chose you.” The words cut the air like daggers and an air of uncertainty settled over the whole arena. Winter ignored it and said, “Make sure you do a good job.” 

With that, Winter gathered up her things and left for the elevator. A dreadful silence settled on the arena, punctuated only when Yang adjusted the straps on her safety pads. She looked up to see Blake studying her the same way one studied a particularly distasteful insect. 

“I’m Y-”

“I know.”

Oh.

“Uh…” Yang mumbled, reaching for words before saying, “I like your bow. It goes great with the...uniform…” the words trailed off as Blake folded her arms across her chest. 

“How much practice have you had in Deathsticks?” Blake asked. Yang thought for a moment, then said,

“Not much. Probably not since I was a kid.”

Blake put one hand on her forehead and let out a soft groan, “Just get the skates on. I’ll teach you.”

Yang complied as quickly as she was able, making sure to tie the skates on tightly. Finally she slid on the helmet, grimacing at the thought of the mess of hair she’d need to comb out that night. Then she was off towards the arena. 

Or she would have been if the first step she took hadn’t sent her tumbling towards the ground. She yelled and tried to catch herself on the stands but was too slow. She would’ve smashed her face onto the unforgiving concrete steps had she not been stopped short by strong, calloused hands. Looking up she saw that Blake had caught her by the arm. Yang smiled sheepishly and got her feet under her as best she could. The next few steps to the arena were much easier, with Blake’s steady hand anyway. 

Once she finally got onto the arena, the skates felt better, made for the tile as they were. She cast another glance at Blake and said, “Sorry about that.”

“It happens to everyone the first time,” Blake said nonchalantly, then, “Now I’m going to give you the first lesson I got when I started skating.”

“Really? What is it?” Yang asked, then screamed as Blake shoved her towards the center of the arena. It was lucky that the years as a bartender had taught her how to keep her feet steady or she would have gone tumbling onto the tile with a sickening crash. She waved her hands wildy, still screaming, as she collided hard with the opposite end of the arena. The ring round the arena was padded to keep people from getting too injured on collision, but it still knocked the wind out of her. There would be a bruise all across her waist, she could already tell. 

As she steadied herself on the outside ring, the sound of skates gliding over the tile reached her ear. Yang turned to see Blake approaching her, fighting not to double over with laughter.

“Oh my gods,” the Faunus said, “I’ve never seen anyone react that badly. You just-just,” and she had to grab the ring to keep from collapsing with laughter.

“I didn’t think it was funny,” Yang grumbled to herself, still struggling to keep her feet steady underneath her. It wasn’t quiet enough to just be for herself however, Blake’s cat ears weren’t just for show.

Blake fought down laughter as she stood back up, clearing her throat and trying to force herself to be serious again, then said, “You’re right. It was a cheap shot. Are you ready to learn for real this time?”

Yang nodded quickly, at least hoping to learn enough that if she got shoved again it wouldn't be as comical. Blake circled around her casually and started to explain.

“Okay, first, let go of the barrier.”

Yang did, with enormous effort, feeling as though her support system was ripped out from under her. Blake continued,

“Let’s go over this top to bottom, alright? Keep your head straight on, you need to be able to see where you’re going.” She watched with a careful eye as Yang fought to keep herself from looking at her feet, which were still slipping and sliding as she tried to stand upright.

“Next, shoulders. Keep them straight and level,” Yang’s posture was already damn near perfect. “Good. Okay, now your core. Keep it tight. You know how to do that?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at that,” Yang replied, making sure that her core muscles were set and ready. She always had been proud of her abs, and was glad that the hard work was paying off.

“Awesome. Now, put your hips down low.”

“Okay,” Yang said, and did what she assumed was what Blake wanted. Apparently that was incorrect, as the Faunus shook her head in disbelief.    


“Hips low, Yang. Don’t just bend your knees.”

“Like this?” Yang said, bending her knees more. Blake let out an exasperated sigh and skated around so that she was behind Yang. 

“Stand back up,” she said, and Yang did so, “Okay, so when I say hips low-do you mind if I touch you? To help you get into position?”

“Oh! Uh, no, no, go ahead,” Yang stammered, glad that Blake couldn’t see how red her face had become. Yang cursed herself under her breath. What was happening right now? Blake was just teaching her how to skate, then they’d probably only ever see each other at practices. It wasn’t a big deal. Still, that hadn’t stopped a lance of nervous attraction from piercing Yang’s chest as Blake reached out and rested her hands on her protege’s hips. 

“Okay. Hips down,” Blake said and gently pressed Yang’s hips downwards, lowering her center of gravity and bending her knees slightly.

“But I thought you said not to bend your knees? Did I do it wrong?”

“No, it just happens. The hips are what’s important, if you just bend your knees then you throw off your balance. Keep your hips low, and you stay steadier.”   


“Okay,” Yang said, drawing out the word a bit as she committed the information to memory. “What about my arms?”

Blake skated back around to the front and demonstrated, putting her palms down and her arms about a foot away from her body. “Like this. Make sure your palms are down, or you’ll screw up your skating.” Yang did so, and Blake nodded in satisfaction, “Okay, finally, your feet. Put them in a v-shape, with your heels together.” Again, she demonstrated the motion and Yang copied as best as she was able. “Good,” Blake said, then let her feet go wide and slid back a few feet, “Now, the skating. What you want to do is shift your weight from side to side as you skate, okay? So left, right, left, right.” As she spoke, she demonstrated, skating forwards with all the grace of a butterfly until she came to a stop in front of Yang. “Does that make sense?”

“Uh, yeah I think so.”

“Good, now you try,” Blake said, sliding backwards again. 

“Okay,” Yang muttered to herself, “Shift my weight from side to side, left, right, left, right.” She shifted her weight to the left, misjudged how far she needed to shift, and went careening to the ground. Fortunately, the safety pads took most of the shock, but the impact still hurt. More bruises. Blake was already at her side, helping her back up. “How much of a shift do I need?” Yang asked. Blake thought for a moment, then said,

“Enough to get your chest over your foot. Some people like to say that you put your nose over your pinky toe.” Still in Blakes steady grasp, Yang leaned side to side, shifting her weight to get a basic idea of how much she needed to move. After a few minutes, she nodded and looked up at Blake.

“Okay. I’m ready.” 

Black nodded and slid backwards a few feet, then gestured for Yang to follow. Yang let out a deep breath, and looked down to make sure her feet were right.

“Head up,” Blake reminded her, “Trust your body. It’s like...have you ever practiced martial arts?”

“A bit, yeah."

“It’s like that. Keep your head up, rely on your body. It knows what to do.”

With another deep breath Yang shifted her body weight, left, right, left, right. She didn’t fall over. In fact, she was moving forwards, and as she started moving the feeling of unsteadiness started to fade. “Hey, I’m doing it!” she shouted in excitement, then suddenly realized that she didn’t know how to stop. She nearly collided with Blake, stopped short by the other player’s experienced hand on her chest. Blake tutted a bit, but couldn’t keep a small smile from playing on the edge of her lips.

“You’re cute,” she said. Yang balked. It felt like someone had just punched her in the throat.

“W-what?”

“Like a kid. Cute, but inexperienced.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks?” Yang said, leaning away from Blake in confusion. The other woman laughed and shook her head. 

“Let’s teach you how to stop.” Blake said as she skated away. “Now, here’s what you do.”

The rest of their two hour personal practice session was spent on the fundamentals and by the end of it, Yang felt pretty good. At the very least she could travel around the arena without falling over too much. A buzzer went off in the huge four sided scoreboard above their heads. Blake hissed and flattened her ears at the sound, then relaxed as it faded. She cast a glance at Yang, who was still practicing. “The rest of the team will be here soon.”

Yang came to a slightly unsteady stop near Blake and asked, “So what am I doing? I’m not good enough to practice with you guys yet.” She was humble enough to admit that, which Blake seemed to appreciate.

“That’s true. I’m sure Winter will have something ready for you while the team practices.”

Before either of them could say any more, the door to the arena opened and a flood of fully armed and ready Deathsticks players surged through it. In the throng, Yang saw a glimpse of the orange bob that Penny had, as well as someone who looked like she could be Winter’s sister. As the team started their warmups, they all shot looks at Yang. Most were contemptuous, a few were curious, and there was the distinctly happy look of Penny, who wasted no time skating up to Yang.

“Salutations Yang! Salutations Blake!” the woman shouted as she came to a halt in front of the other two. 

“Hey Penny,” Black said, seemingly a bit abashed by the overly friendly nature of her teammate.

“Hi Penny,” Yang said warmly, smiling at the only other person she knew on the team. That seemed to make Penny even happier.

“How have you been? Have you been practicing without us?” she asked Yang who nodded as she answered,

“I’ve been good. Just spent the last two hours practicing with Blake.”

“Wow! You couldn’t ask for a better teacher than Blake!”

Before Yang could respond, or address the suddenly embarrassed look on Blake’s face, a new voice entered the fray which put the energy of Penny and Ruby to shame with ease.

“Hang on there! I’m the best teacher on this team.” 

Yang turned to find herself looking at a woman with a bob of orange hair like Penny’s. In fact the two women looked very similar, if it weren’t for the fact that this new woman was twice as broad as Penny and looked like she could rip a small car in half. Oh, that and she had blue eyes instead of green. 

“You must be Nora, right?” Yang said, reaching out a hand.

“So Blake told you about me, huh?” Nora replied, accepting the hand shake. For the second time in as many days Yang found her hand nearly crushed under the grip of another player. “I hope she taught you how to be a good Brawler, cause we need one.”

“We didn’t quite get that far,” Blake muttered, now looking even smaller with the second bundle of energy nearby. “But there’s always tomorrow.”

“Well, you better learn soon, or we’ll be in trouble,” Nora said and laughed. Penny joined in. Yang and Blake did not. “Alright, we should get warmed up. C’mon Penny!” With that the two women left, chattering excitedly about Yang.

Yang looked over at Blake, who seemed to be returning to her full stature now that the other two women were busy. “Anyone else I should know about?”

“Hmm,” Blake hummed to herself as she looked around, then pointed at the woman who looked like Winter’s sibling. “Her.”

“The Winter clone?”

Blake laughed a bit at that and nodded, “Yeah. She’s Winter’s little sister, Weiss.”

“What’s she like?” 

“A bit of a pain in the ass sometimes, but she’s good if you get to know her.”

“Have you?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.”

Blake shrugged and started to skate in circles around Yang until a whistle echoed around the arena. Everyone looked up to see Winter on the edge of the barrier, whistle in her mouth and clipboard at the ready. There was a chorus of “Morning coach,” as the players came to a stop and waited for instruction.

“Good morning everyone. I’m sure you all met our newest recruit, Yang Xiao Long.” Everyone nodded, putting on friendly faces that even a child could see through. “Very good. Yang, you’ll be on the half of the arena with the cutout Goaltender. Blake, you go with her, make sure she doesn't hurt herself.” A few of the players snickered and started cracking jokes, only to be silenced by a glare from Winter. “The rest of you are on the other side. We’re practicing rush defense, so Screeners it’s all about you today. Don’t disappoint me.” 

The rest of the players started to peel off for the half of the arena with the open goal, many getting up to speeds that made Yang queasy to watch. Winter followed the group around the edge of the barrier, making notes as she did so. She made an especially large amount of notes when the players came to a halt, some stopping the same way that Yang had learned and other, the faster ones, leaping and turning around to come to a halt facing the opposite direction.

Blake looked sullen as she watched the rest of her team start to practice, the sounds of shouting and violence soon dominating the arena. 

“So,” Yang said, “Can you teach me how to stop that fast?”

That made Blake smile, a bit too grimly for Yang’s liking. “Let’s focus on getting up to speed first.”

Yang agreed that, yes, Blake’s suggestion made more sense. With any luck, she would be able to practice with the full team soon, which would hopefully lift Blake’s spirits as well.

  
  


By the end of the day Yang felt like she was about to collapse into a thousand tiny pieces. Her muscles felt like they were shredding apart with each step towards the elevator, a feeling not helped at all by the bag full of Deathsticks equipment she was carrying. Winter had allowed her to keep the pads, skates, and all the rest of the loaned out gear for the duration of her two week trial, and had even been polite enough to provide an official Beacon Bumblebees duffel bag to carry it in. What she had not been polite about was failing to mention how absolutely exhausted Yang was going to feel after just one day of practice. If it hadn’t been for the grumbling in her stomach she might have passed out in the stands. 

The long day of practice wasn’t the only thing making her tired; around three her caffeinated energy had finally been spent and she crashed hard. The rest of practice was full of pinching herself to keep awake and hiding yawns from Blake and anyone else who might be looking. Yang felt that she’d done a good job at keeping how tired she was a secret, but the sinking feeling in her gut told her that Winter was well aware. Nothing seemed to get by the coach. 

The hotel room, so recently a place of anxiety and worry, was now a welcome respite in the bleak midwinter of exhaustion. Yang stumbled into her room and let the bag of equipment fall to the ground with a solid thud. The strap left her shirt clinging to her shoulders and chest, sweat formed in pools across her body. With a satisfied groan she stripped of her dirty clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the results of a long day in the arena. It was a wonder that she didn’t fall asleep in the shower as the comforting warmth of the water and steam seeped into her body, but Yang was too hungry to risk that. She knew how grumpy she got when she was hungry, and the last thing she wanted was to show up to practice tomorrow grumpy.

As Yang stepped out of the shower she almost wished that she had stayed in, the shock of cold air in the bathroom sending shivers down her spine, but the comforter on her bed would have to do in a pinch. 

Gods, what she would give to have Blake help her-

No. Stop it. She cursed again and hurriedly started to comb out her hair to distract herself. Blake was her teammate, her teacher. That was it. It was ridiculous that she was so drawn to Blake after having just met her, and in a professional setting at that. Admittedly, Blake grabbing onto her hips hadn’t been strictly professional, but Yang pushed the thought away. She wasn’t here to romance anyone, she was here to get a job. 

No matter how much she told herself that, it didn’t stop the feeling of her heart rattling in its cage every time her thoughts drifted to Blake. Had it really been so long since she’d felt this way? Sure, there were plenty of pretty women in Patch but none of them had caught Yang’s eye as quickly as Blake had done. There was something different about Blake, something mystical in the way that she could go from serious to silly in the span of a moment, the calm confidence in her voice, the reassuring steadiness of her hands.

It was no use. There was no forcing her mind to focus on anything but Blake right now. So Yang, now dressed comfortably in sweatpants and tank top, flopped onto her bed as fantasies of Blake drifted across her mind. Her stomach grumbled again, snapping her out of her reverie. She rolled over and grabbed the room’s phone to order something for dinner, almost thankful that her body had distracted her from thinking only of her teammate. 

Fortunately the distractions kept coming. No sooner had she placed her order did her cell phone go off. She held it up to check to see that she was getting a call from Ruby, which made her smile. It would be good to talk with her sister. After all, Yang thought as she rolled her eyes, it had nearly been a whole two days since they’d been together in person. Ruby had called at least three times a week while Yang was doing her undergrad.

“Hi Yang!” Ruby cried out as soon as Yang answered. The blonde put her phone on speaker and set it onto the end table, not having the energy to sit up.

“Hey Rubes,” Yang said, a familiar warmth spreading through her chest. “How’s my favorite sister?”

“Good! Everything’s fine here,” Ruby said, but Yang hadn’t been taking care of her sister all these years without being able to catch her in a lie.

“I’m glad to hear it. What’d you burn this time?”

There was an exasperated sigh on the other end of the line, then, “I didn’t-you-How do you do that?”

Yang smirked and rolled onto her side to look at the phone. It wasn’t the same as talking face to face, but it was something. “Years of practice. So what happened.”

After a long silence, dripping with embarrassment, Ruby mumbled, “I burnt a couple trays of cookies.” 

That made Yang sit upright, the shock evident in her voice as she spoke. “No! You burnt cookies?”

“Yeah...Dad thought it was hilarious.”

“It is hilarious.”

“No it isn’t! Now I don’t have any cookies.”

“Just make more.”

“I used all the chocolate chips we had left.”

“Rubes, you’re a mess sometimes.”

Yang could tell that Ruby was sticking her tongue out at the phone before she spoke again. “It’s not gonna happen again. But whatever! I wanna hear about you. How was it? Did you practice? Are the players as cool as they look on tv?”

So Yang explained her meeting with Winter and the day of practice, only stopping to get her food halfway through. It was good that Ruby was an excellent talker, because as soon as Yang finished her explanation she dove into her meal like a woman possessed. 

“You’re being taught by Blake Belladonna? She’s like the best player ever!” Ruby yelled.

“Ruby! Keep it down, we’ve got people out front!” That was Tai, shouting from somewhere in the background. 

“Sorry dad,” Ruby said apologetically, then returned to Yang at a much more level tone. “She’s got about a dozen awards already and a seventy...three percent shot/goal rate. I bet she’s pretty cool to learn from.”

“She’s definitely pretty,” Yang mumbled in between bites, the words slipping out before she knew what was happening.

“What’s that?”

“I said, she’s definitely pretty cool,” Yang covered, relieved that Ruby hadn’t heard anything specific. “When did you learn so much about her?” Ruby’s interest in Deathsticks up to this point had been cursory at best, she never would have been able to name a specific percentage about anything. 

“I started learning because you joined. I thought it’d be cool to find out what kind of players you’d be with.”

“Hey, I’m not on the team yet so don’t get too excited,” Yang said, making a mental note to look up at least a bit on the players for the Bumblebees.

“Ruby! I need you up front. Oh, and hello Yang!” Tai’s voice again, wafting up from the other end of the line.

“Hi dad,” Yang said, glad that the conversation was coming to a close. She loved talking with Ruby, but after finishing her meal her body was starting to give up on being awake. 

“Okay, dad! I’m on the way. Talk to you soon Yang,” Ruby said and the line went dead as she hung up. Yang let out a contented sigh. She was glad that things were still business as usual at the Burning Rose and even more glad that she could sleep. Dinner was finished and the warm food was settling comfortably into the pit of her stomach as she drifted off into a blissful night’s sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that you all are still enjoying the fic! Next week, Yang takes a leap of faith.   
> There's a hint of angst in the coming chapter dealing with Blake's past so keep that in mind. I'll be sure to leave any necessary warnings in the notes at the beginning of chapters.  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang continues practicing with Blake and makes a bet that changes both of their lives. Part of Blake's history is revealed, and Winter introduces Yang to the next stage of her training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter three everybody! We start getting some more serious Bees action in this chapter and get introduced to some new characters.   
> There are vague references to Blake's past in this chapter, so if that's something you're uncomfortable with please be aware.   
> Also the swearing starts in earnest this chapter, so bear that in mind as well.

“Wow, I’m amazed you came back,” Blake said as she skated in circles around Yang, nose still in the Deathsticks rulebook. 

Yang made her way up and down the arena, muttering the instructions from the day before as she did. “You can’t scare me off that easy.”

Blake looked up with a small smile before settling back into her book. “I’m glad. I was more talking about how sore you must be though. Most people can’t get out of bed after their first day of practice.”

Yang winced as she remembered the struggle it had been to get up that morning. Her muscles had screamed in agony with every motion and the very fiber of her being begged her to crawl back into bed with some pain relievers and bad tv, but that wasn’t how Yang did business. She had said that she would be here at seven, so she was here at seven. Six fifty-five to be exact. 

“It’s not the first morning I’ve woken up sore.”

Blake rolled her eyes playfully and said “Right,” before skating off to put her book down. It was only a moment later when Yang realized the double meaning of what she’d said and her face flushed a deep red. “So, are you ready to practice skating quickly?” Blake asked as she came to a stop next to Yang, who was still fighting to keep her blush in check. “If you want to keep going over the fundamentals, we can do that too.”

“Nah,” Yang said, “I need to go from nobody to pro in two weeks, remember?”

“I don’t think you need to be a pro, but it’s your training.”

“So, down and back like before?”

“Sure. I’ll time you.”

“Wanna race?” Yang said with a cocky grin. Blake shook her head with a small smile, then said,

“I’ve been doing this for years, Yang. It’s not fair.”

“C’mon, I bet I can beat you.”

“Oh?” That got Blake’s attention, her ears now standing up straight on her head as she looked at Yang with competitive interest. “What are we betting?”

“Dinner? Winner gets to pick where.” Yang said, the realistic part of her screaming that this was a mistake. Blake laughed, a soft, wonderful sound that filled the arena and made the whole place seem full of life.

“Yang Xiao Long, you’ve known me for two days and you’re asking me out on a date?”

“Your word, not mine,” Yang said with a friendly shrug, but she would have won a hundred races if it meant going on a date with Blake. The romantic part of her, the part that always won out in the end, was applauding her for being so bold.

“Hmm,” Blake hummed to herself as she thought, “You’re on.”

Yang beamed as the two women lined up on one end of the arena. They locked eyes for a moment as Blake said, “First one all the way down and back here wins. You still want to do this Yang?”

“On your mark, Blake.”

“Alright then,” Blake grinned, “Three, two, one, go!”

In truth, Yang never thought she had a chance at beating Blake in a race. That wasn’t the point. It was the principle of the thing, the chance to spend time with her outside of the arena that was the real goal. Besides, her eagerness to accept the bet meant that she wanted to spend time with Yang too. Right?

Yang hadn’t even managed to turn around before Blake skidded to a halt at the finish line. She held up her arms in victory and let out a whoop before skating back down the arena to meet Yang halfway.

“Guess you get to pick where we go for dinner,” Yang said.

“I’ve got some places in mind.”

“I trust your judgement.”

“That’s your first mistake.”

“Been alright so far.”

Blake laughed again and patted Yang on shoulder with a gentle hand. “I hope that works out for you.”

Yang almost didn’t respond, so happy was she that Blake had agreed to go out to dinner. When she did it was almost as halting as the day before. “So what’s next? Unless you want to win another race?”

“I’ll wait until tomorrow. Besides, I might win something more than dinner if you keep losing that badly.” Blake smirked then skated to the far side of the arena while Yang’s mind struggled to comprehend what she’d just been told. Before the puff of smoke could come out from over exertion, Blake yelled, “Okay! Now we’ll do it timed.” Yang gave her a thumbs up and readied herself to skate as quickly as possible. She would be just as sore tonight as the previous, but at least she had dinner to look forward to.

Blake, it turned out, did have good taste. At the very least she had good taste if you were interested in seafood, which Yang was more than happy with. Patch was a port town, which meant that most of the people there worked at lobstering and fishing. If you didn’t like seafood, you couldn’t live in Patch. 

The restaurant itself was more of a diner than anything else, complete with a long bar to sit at and round tables throughout, with a neon sign above the kitchen door naming the place ‘Old Man Shopkeep’s’. Yang got to the restaurant first, a small benefit of being in the hotel. The team had an apartment complex, as Blake had explained, and it was a bit further away. Traffic on a tuesday evening was especially bad, which only held Blake up longer. By the time that she arrived Yang was already on her third glass of water, scrolling idly through the news as she waited.

“Hi,” Blake said, sliding into the booth. Yang perked up immediately, nearly throwing her phone back into her pocket. It took her a moment to notice that Blake seemed much less confident now that she had in the arena. She was fiddling with her silverware and didn’t meet Yang’s eyes.

“Hey. This place seems pretty great,” Yang said, turning to look at the menu. Whatever was on Blake’s mind, it wasn’t her place to pursue it. Blake looked up quickly and smiled, a flash of emotion on her otherwise stony face.

“Uh, yeah. I love it here.” Now Blake was buried in the menu, though it seemed like she wasn’t really focused on what she was reading. Yang took another sip of water to clear her throat before saying,

“We don’t have to be out tonight. If you don’t want to.”

Blake’s head snapped up and she finally met Yang’s eyes, her own full of confusion and suspicion all at once. “What? No, no, it’s not that. I just...it’s been a while.” For a moment it looked like she was about to say more, but bit the words back before they could leave her lips. It was a feeling that Yang knew all too well. Her gaze softened, and a small, comforting smile formed as she looked at Blake.

“I get that. Maybe this’ll just be dinner, rather than a date?” 

Some of the fear in Blake’s eyes faded away and she relaxed into her seat. “That sounds like a good idea. Just dinner.”

Yang nodded in affirmation and soon the waitress arrived to get their orders. Yang went with fried cod while Blake ordered the seared salmon. As the waitress hurried off to place their orders, and deal with a screaming toddler, Blake smiled, for real this time. The suspicion was still there, Yang could nearly smell it, but it was a small piece of an otherwise contented puzzle. 

“The food here is excellent, the best in Vale, I swear. Probably the best seafood anywhere,” Blake said, which made the old small town pride come bubbling to the surface in Yang’s heart.

“I dunno about that. Patch has some great places for seafood,” 

“Maybe I’ll go there one day.”

“I can give you some recommendations,” Yang said, hiding the real meaning of ‘I’d love to take you out to all of them’ deep within. It was too soon, Blake’s earlier reaction had been enough of an indicator for that. 

“I’d like that,” Blake said, then took a long sip of water, “So you’re from Patch?”

“Yep! Born and raised out there with my sister Ruby and my dad. It’s a nice enough town once you get to know the people,” Yang said proudly. Her father’s feelings for the small town had rubbed off on her, it seemed.

“It sounds lovely. Have you been there your whole life?” Blake asked. She seemed genuinely interested, not so much as to be leaning across the table but enough to have her focus entirely on Yang. Her eyes were soft, inquisitive, and her lips set in a small grin.

“No, I left for a few years to go to Beacon. I probably wouldn’t have bothered if dad didn’t insist I make something of myself,” Yang answered, letting herself settle into her chair. 

“You went to Beacon? What for?”

“Evolutionary biology. I was planning on working in a lab for my whole life but that, well,” Yang gestured at the diner around them, “didn’t really work out.”

“Sometimes that’s how things go,” Blake mumbled, suddenly seeming very far away, as though something had grabbed her and ripped her out of the diner entirely. Yang’s next words were quick, but gentle, as gentle as she could manage.

“I prefer it this way though. I got to spend some more time with my family and then I came out here. Honestly, I think it’s better than spending all day cooped up in a lab.”

“Probably wouldn’t have needed lessons to use the lab though.”

“Probably,” Yang agreed, “but fortunately I had a good teacher in the arena.”

Blake blushed and looked away, but couldn’t hide the smile spreading across her face. “You were a natural, anyway.”

“We both brought something to the table. How’s that for a compromise?” Yang asked and Blake looked back, an expression of wonder on her face, as if seeing something beautiful for the first time.

“A compromise?” she whispered to herself, but not quiet enough that Yang missed it entirely, “I can work with that.” She smiled up at Yang and suddenly Yang could see that Blake trusted her with more than just her judgement. “But you did a lot better than most beginners. I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I was when I started.”

Yang laughed and leaned on her hands as she watched Blake. “I’m a fast learner. Wish I could’ve seen you when you were learning though. You make skating look like art.”

Blake waved the compliment away with one hand and took another sip of water with the other. “Please, I can’t do half the stuff that Weiss can do. Or Penny for that matter.”

Yang suddenly realized that she had no idea how anyone else on the team skated other than Blake. “I bet you could out skate them any day.”

“What is it with you and making bets?” Blake chuckled, looking away as the waitress arrived with their food, “Thanks.” The two dug in as soon as their plates touched down. Blake was right. It was good seafood, some of the best that Yang had ever had before, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that it was better than what you could get on Patch. Looking up from her food, Yang was astonished to see Blake utterly demolishing the salmon in front of her, soon leaving little more than a lemon peel.

“So,” Yang asked between bites, “How’d you get started? In Deathsticks I mean.”

Blake looked away, one of her hands clenching into a fist. With a visible effort she let the pressure flow away and looked back, anxiety and worry barely hidden under the sheen of calm. “It was a while ago. I was getting into a new part of my life and needed something to do.” There it was again, the feeling that something was being left unsaid, but again it wasn’t Yang’s place to pry. If Blake felt comfortable enough to tell her, she would. Yang took a cheery, joking tone as she said, 

“And that just happened to evolve into you being one of the best Strikers ever?”

Blake shrugged. “I’m quick and can handle the ball well.”

“So you were a natural?”

“Pff, no. Not even close,” Blake said, rolling her eyes. “I was worse than you when I started, it took me a week to be able to skate across the arena in one piece. I wasn’t allowed to play on a team for nearly a year.”

“Oh gods, a year?” Yang said, aghast. Blake smiled at her, a caring, confident smile and all of Yang’s worry faded away.

“You’ll be fine. Winter’s let much worse people on the team.”

“Really?”

“Really. There’s a reason that Nora’s our Goaltender.”

The two of them laughed, the individual sounds mixing together and filling the entire diner with the wonderful music of joy. The rest of the evening was spent in the same way, talking and laughing and smiling at one another. Yang couldn’t remember the last time that she had smiled so easily, laughed so much, even with her family. With them there was something formal about it, something rigid that couldn’t be shaken off with a laugh. With Blake, it was different. It was easy to talk with her, and Yang couldn’t believe that she had gone so long without hearing that wonderful laugh.   
They were still laughing as they left the diner, Blake making sure to wave at the titular old man who ran the register and to leave a big tip with the check. Yang had tried to pay for their meal, she had lost the bet after all, but Blake had insisted. All that really accomplished was making Yang pledge to pay for their next dinner. If it happened, that is. She didn't want to do anything that Blake was uncomfortable with, but Blake seemed perfectly fine with the idea of going out a second time as long it was strictly dinner.  
As they climbed into the cab, Yang told the driver,

“Marigold Heights, please,” and Blake said

“Willow Condominiums after that, please.” The driver had nodded and turned up the radio to give them some privacy. Once the cab took off, Blake rolled her eyes. At least that was what Yang assumed, as she was looking out the window as the city whizzed by, but the tone of Blake’s voice made it clear. “You’re staying at a hotel? Winter’s so bad.”

“Hmm?”

“Winter. She could’ve at least put you up in the complex, even if you were only gonna be here for two weeks.”

That made it sound like Blake assumed Yang would be here for longer. A piece of Yang hoped that she wanted her to stay. “I thought that was only for team members though?”

“Oh, please," Blake grumbled, "She lets the team rent apartments out to their families and friends sometimes, the least she could do is let you stay as well.”

“It’s not a huge deal. The place is better than anything in Patch, anyway,” Yang said, repeating her first night observations. 

“Still. It gives off a bad first impression. I swear she won’t be this bad once you’re on the team.”

“So you think I have a shot?”

Blake placed a gentle hand on Yang’s shoulder, grabbing her attention. They were the same reassuring, calloused hands as in the arena, but they felt different somehow, more personal, like this was a touch reserved for Yang. “I know you do,” Blake said softly and Yang couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. Apparently it was infectious, as Blake started to smile as well. Oh gods, Blake's lips. How much Yang wanted to have them against her own, to take Blake in her arms and feel this kind of comfort forever.   
But that wasn’t to happen. This was just dinner, after all. 

The cab pulled up the hotel and Yang hopped out, slipping the driver a good tip. She cast one more look at Blake, who was still smiling that same gentle, comforting smile as before. “Night Blake.”

“Night Yang. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Seven o’clock sharp.”

With that Yang closed the door and the cab sped off towards the team’s apartment complex. The giddy feeling of a wonderful evening spent with a wonderful woman lingered for a moment, tinged with sadness that it had already ended.

“Ah, grapes,” Yang muttered to herself, turning to walk into the hotel. She would see Blake tomorrow, anyway. It wasn’t like they would be apart that long.

At the moment, the thought of spending a whole night without Blake burned a hole in Yang’s chest.

Yang’s dreams were kind and simple, full of the same exquisite feeling of calm and joy that being with Blake had given her. It wasn’t the same as being with Blake, talking and laughing with her, but it was a decent substitute. It was enough to tide her over until practice.

Yang spent the rest of the week practicing getting up to speed with the rest of the team and stopping just as quickly. The first few tries had sent her careening into the ring around the arena, but with Blake’s guidance she could soon give off the air of a competent amateur. No sooner had they finished going over the basics did Blake skate towards the goal and its fake tender, dragging it out to the center of the arena.

“Alright,” she said with all the confidence of the seasoned professional that she was, “we’re moving on to tackles.”

“Tackles?” Yang asked as she came to a stop next to Blake. Her teammate nodded and slid back twenty before getting into position to skate again.

“You’re gonna be a Brawler right?”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Then watch closely,” Blake said and suddenly charged the dummy. Yang leapt away with a yelp as she watched Blake slam into the fake Goaltender, sending the cutout player flying without even slowing down. The dummy slid to a halt, facedown on the arena, as Blake skated back up to Yang and asked, “You ready to try?”

Yang was staring at Blake in disbelief, stunned that the otherwise calm and collected woman could land a hit so vicious. “How did you...do that?” Blake smirked and skated over to collect the fallen cardboard competitor. 

“It’s easy,” she said, setting the Goaltender up a few feet away from Yang, “your momentum does most of the work for you. All you really have to worry about is not falling over and making sure that they do.” She skated next to Yang and gestured at the dummy. “Now, you try.”

Yang took a deep breath before pushing off and skating as quickly as she could at the dummy. She didn’t get half the speed that Blake did, that would come with practice, but she knew enough about fighting to knock over an inanimate object. Or at least she thought she did.

The advice that everyone had given her came rushing back as she careened passed the dummy and went tumbling to the floor as she over extended her tackle. When you were fighting, you wanted to be steady, a solid stance made all the difference. On skates, there was none of that to be found. Everything that Yang knew about fighting flew out the window the moment that she tried to tackle something in the arena. 

Blake helped her back to her feet, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, “Momentum, Yang. You’re not trying to shoulder check them, just slam into them.”

Yang threw an arm around Blake's shoulders as she stood, removing it just as quickly once she’d regained her footing. Blake gave her a quizzical look, and for a moment Yang could have sworn that she was biting her lip but it was gone before she could be sure. “It’s that simple?” she asked, forcing herself not to stare too long.

“Well it’s not that simple, but that’s the gist of it. Try it again. Just rush them and try not to lean too far into the hit,” Blake explained. Yang nodded slowly as she memorized the advice before backing up once more. Once Blake had set up the dummy again, Yang rushed it, trying her best to emulate what she’d been taught.

This time things went much smoother. She felt the solid impact of her shoulder against the false Goaltender and heard it skidding away. When she turned to look it was still upright, but at least it had been moved and she was still on her feet. She grinned at Blake, who returned it proudly. “That was much better.”

“You think I’m ready for the real thing?”

Blake laughed and shook her head, “No, gods no. Even if you went after Penny, she’d take you out easy and she’s like half your size.”

Yang skated over to the Goaltender and dragged it back to the center of the arena before setting herself back for another rush. “I guess I’d better keep practicing.”

“That’s the spirit,” Blake chuckled as she settled in to watch. 

The end of practice saw Yang doing much better with her tackles. The first few hours had been difficult, with her collapsing to the ground more often than she’d like to admit, but by the last few she could send the dummy flying without much trouble. She looked up from her latest attempt as the buzzer went off in the scorebox, and Blake grimaced, flattening her ears again.

“Why do they have to make that thing so damn loud?” she grumbled, which made Yang shrug. Before she could say anything, Winter shouted at the team from the stands.

“Good practice today, people! Excellent rushing today Penny,” Penny positively beamed at the praise, “Nora, put some ice on that eye for gods’ sake,” Nora shrugged and said something along the lines of ‘I’ll be fine,’ but Yang knew a budding black eye when she saw one. She was still wondering how it had happened when Winter yelled, “Yang! Come see me.” 

“Uh, yes coach!” Yang shouted back, hoping that she didn’t sound too frightened. As the rest of the team began to clamber out of the arena and get ready to head home, Blake skated past Yang with a quick,

“Good luck,” and a warm smile that made Yang blush. But there was no time to bask in the comfort that the simple phrase elicited in her chest, Winter was waiting with foot tapping and eyebrow raised.

“You wanted to see me, coach?” Yang asked, coming to a stop as smoothly as she could. Winter gave her a once over and didn’t seem displeased, but it was hard to tell behind her placid expression.

“You seem to be acclimating well, Yang,” she said, her tone curt and official, “and your tackling is impressive for someone without any experience.”

“I have a good teacher,” Yang replied.

“Indeed,” Winter muttered to herself, making a note on her clipboard, “You’ll be glad to know that I’ve found someone to teach you how to be a proper Brawler.” The hard edge to Winter’s voice made it seem like she expected Yang to be glad more than just hoped. “Your first lessons with them will be this weekend, from ten to two in the team gym. After that your practices with Miss Belladonna will be from eight to nine, and you’ll spend five thirty to six thirty with your Brawler trainer. Any questions?”

“Team gym?” Yang asked. The Aerodome was huge, a marvel of engineering, but surely there couldn’t be two locker rooms, a floor of office space, thousands of seats, a Deathsticks arena, and a gym tucked away. They’d need some serious science to pull that off.

“At the apartment complex, Willow Condominiums. Just tell the gate attendant who you are, he’ll have a list.” With that, Winter took her leave and Yang soon followed. She had hoped to relax over the weekend but so much for that. Still at least she had energy after practices these days. Winter was right, she had acclimated quickly. Yang liked being active, and being a bartender only gave you so much exercise. After the first few painful days, her body had accepted the burden of skating like a fish to water. 

That didn’t mean she didn’t fall asleep like a stone that night, almost missing her alarm for the next morning. She had given herself the luxury of sleeping until nine, a precious two and a half hours more than during the week. Forgoing a shower, since she’d be training for four hours soon anyway, she ate a small breakfast and grabbed a cab to the team’s complex.

To say that the series of buildings were condominiums was like saying a goose is an airplane. Behind the huge wrought iron gate, engraved with the stylized snowflake that Yang had come to associate with the Schnee name, was a series of cottages, dozens of them, each one grander and more opulent than the last. They were the kind of cottages that Yang expected to find in the bougie touristy part of Patch, absolutely oozing of money and privilege.

As the cab dropped her off, she approached a small gatehouse with a polite, professional man inside. He was balding and had a magnificent mustache, and Yang could swear that his eyes were changing colors as she approached.

“Hi there,” she called out, “I’m Yang. Yang Xiao Long.”

“Ah, yes,” the man replied in a steady, courteous tone, “Here for Brawler training. The gym is down the main road about ten cottages and then a left. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” Yang said and waved, stepping inside the gated community. The team lived here? Yang had imagined they were in a college dorm, at best. This was ridiculous. 

Sure enough, the gym was ten cottages down and to the left. The inside was typical for its purpose, with all the trappings of a fully equipped gym. A handful of the other players on the Bumblebees were in there working out, and a few gave Yang nods of acknowledgement. There was still the feeling of being an outsider to this exclusive club, but as time went on the players were getting used to her presence. 

Beyond all the exercising players was a proper boxing ring, complete with a dangling microphone. Sitting beside it, clipboard in hand, was Winter Schnee and next to her was...the same man from the gate, except that now he was in a vest and dress pants rather than an ill-fitting suit and hat. Yang decided that it was better not to ask. Maybe Blake would know how he pulled it off.

It was the woman in the boxing ring itself that drew Yang’s attention most. She was small, at least a head and a half shorter than Yang, with long flowing locks of pink and brown hair, and dressed in sparring gear. Her eyes were also pink and brown, and the colors switched as she blinked, studying Yang with intense, predatory eyes. Yang noticed a distinct lack of sparring gear for herself.

“Good morning, Yang,” Winter said, and Yang responded in kind as she approached. Indicating the woman in the ring, she said, “This is Neopolitan, former Brawler for Roman’s Romans. She’ll be your Brawler trainer.” The names went over Yang’s head entirely, but she did notice the man from the gate signing quickly, which the woman named Neopolitan glanced at between staring at Yang. 

“Hi, I’m Yang,” Yang said to the woman in the ring, signing the same as she did so. Everyone went silent, and Yang shot a nervous look at Winter who looked, for the first time, vaguely impressed. 

“Well,” she said, “I suppose that Klein can free his schedule in that case. Where did you learn VSL?” 

“They offered it an Signal, and I kept up with it at Beacon,” Yang said and signed at the same time, “I’m probably a bit rusty, but I stayed in practice as best I could.”

Winter turned to Klein and dismissed him before gesturing for Yang to get into the ring. As she did she could feel Neopolitan sizing her up. It wasn’t a feeling Yang particularly liked, feeling vulnerable, like prey. The moment that she was on her feet, Neopolitan signed,

“Hit me.”

“W-what?” Yang gasped, then turned to Winter, “She just told me to hit her, what the hell?” Winter nodded sagely before replying, 

“Of course she did. You’re learning to be a Brawler, after all.”

“But I thought that was all about tackling. I don’t have to actually fight anyone, do I?’

“Yang,” Winter said, sounding like a teacher explaining a particularly difficult subject to a stubborn child, “You’re a Brawler. Brawlers are good for two things: tackling and fighting. I know you can tackle, but I need to know that you can stand up to a fistfight.”

“Is that likely to happen?”

“The game isn’t called Deathsticks for no reason. I expect you to get into a fight at least twice a match.” This wasn’t an estimation, this was a command.

“What for?”

“Taking out the opposing Brawler, obviously. And anyone else you deem a threat to us winning.”

“So what am I,” Yang asked, feeling stricken with sickening doubt and disgust, “a hitman?”

“No, you’re a Brawler. I brought you on because I saw you knock someone out. Did you forget that?”

“Well, no, but,”

“If you still object to it at the end of next week, the door is open to return to Patch.”

That made Yang pause. Winter was right, at the end of two weeks she could just head home if this got to be too much. Besides, she should at least try it out. She knew how to fight, after all. “Okay,” she said and signed, “I’ll give it a shot. Don’t I need some gear?”

Winter smiled darkly, almost a grimace. “Don’t worry about that.”

Neopolitan tapped an impatient foot and signed, “Hit me,” again with more intensity. Yang settled into a fighting stance and murmured,

“Alright, then.” She swung heavily, the same knockout punch that had sent the drunk to the ground over a week ago, but Neopolitan just...wasn’t there. It was like she’d vanished into thin air. Yang would have believed that she had, were there not suddenly a rush of air next to her head as a gloved fist stopped just short of her ear. Yang whipped around to see that Neopolitan was somehow, impossibly, behind her. Yang started to ask how she’d managed that but her sparring partner waved a hand in ‘hurry up’ motion and Yang continued her assault.

No matter how much Yang swung or how fast she struck, Neopolitan never took a hit. It was like the woman was made of mist, fading in and out of reality as Yang attacked. Soon Yang’s practiced jabs and hooks devolved into shoulder charges and haymakers. 

Then Neopolitan took the offensive. On one swing Yang overextended just enough to give her opponent an opening. She grabbed Yang’s arm and twisted her body, throwing Yang over her hip and to the floor of the ring. Before Yang could even comprehend how it had happened, there was a flurry of punches pummeling the air an inch above her head.   
Suddenly it was over. Yang peeked out the corner of her eye to see Neopolitan standing above her with a smug expression and Winter making notes. 

“Don’t feel too bad,” Winter said without looking up, “Neopolitan used to be the most dangerous Brawler in the league.”

“Now you tell me,” Yang grumbled as she got to her feet. Her arms felt leaden and useless next to her body, and they’d only been sparring for two minutes at most. She looked over at Neopolitan, who signed,

“Can you tell her to stop calling me Neopolitan?”

“What? Why?” Yang asked, tired fingers fumbling over the signing.

“Neo. Call me Neo.”

“Oh, sure,” Yang signed, then turned to winter, “She’d rather you call her Neo.”

“Hmm?”

“Neo, rather than Neopolitan.”

“Neo it is, then.” Winter was about to go back to her notes when she paused and asked, “How did she know?” Yang relayed the question, and Neo shrugged.

“I can read lips pretty well. Most people are too stuck up to learn VSL.” Yang tactfully left out the second half of the explanation for fear of offending Winter, and it seemed to satisfy the coach. “Now,” Neo signed, “let me teach you how to avoid getting your ass kicked. And get some gear on for fuck’s sake.”

Yang didn’t know that someone so small could give her such a resounding series of lessons, though lessons in Neo’s case were really just her throwing Yang to the ground or sending her reeling before telling her what she’d done wrong. It turned out that she did a lot wrong. She had spent more time on the floor of the ring than on her feet, but at the end of the day Neo had given her at least some praise for being able to stand at all. That had to count for something. 

Her hotel was a welcome sight, as was the thought of a shower. As she stepped inside the doors however, the concierge raised a hand and called out, “Miss Xiao Long?” 

“That’s me,” Yang said as she walked up to the desk, “What is it?”

“Someone called for you while you were out, a Miss Belladonna.” Yang’s heart skipped a beat, but she said nothing, “She left a number for you to reach her at. She didn’t say specifically what she wanted, only that she wanted to speak with you.” The concierge handed Yang a piece of official stationery with a phone number on it. Blake’s phone number. Yang committed it to memory before saying,

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to get back to her.”

The concierge nodded in satisfaction at that, and even more so when Yang slid her a tip. The thought of her dwindling bank account was far from Yang’s mind as she made her way up to her room, her body revitalized at the thought that Blake had called for her. As soon as she made it into her room and closed the door she called the number on the paper.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. “Hello?” Blake said. Yang let out a sigh of relief as she heard her on the other end. She hadn’t dared to really believe this was happening until she heard Blake’s voice.

“Hi Blake! It’s Yang,” she said, trying to keep the giddiness out of her voice. It was anyone’s guess how well she accomplished it, not very if she had to guess.

“Oh, hi. So you got my message?”

“I did. You wanted to talk to me?”

For the first time Yang allowed the thought that this was something bad to slip into her mind. She had been so preoccupied with the fact that Blake had called her that she could scarcely begin to comprehend that it could mean anything but good things. 

“Yeah, I did. I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner?” Blake asked, her voice halting and unsure. Yang’s eyes softened as she heard it.

“I would love to.”

The relief in Blake’s voice was evident as she replied, “Oh! Good! You get to pick this time.”

“And I get to pay for it,” Yang said, teasing Blake as much as she dared. Blake laughed, the wonderful sound not diminished at all by the telephone.

“Of course. So where do you want to go?”

Yang opened her mouth to respond, then froze as she realized that she only knew one restaurant nearby. “I hope you like repeats.”

“Old Man Shopkeep’s again?”

“Do you mind? I can find someplace else,” Yang stammered, afraid that she had ruined her chances of a nice evening with Blake by not coming up with something new.

Blake laughed again and Yang’s heart eased its nervous pounding, “I don’t mind at all. Do you want to meet around seven?”

“Seven sounds wonderful.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.” 

“See you,” Yang said and then there was the click of the phone being hung up. Her heart was beating just as quickly as before. It wasn’t nerves this time but anticipation. She hung up the phone and sprinted into the shower, almost forgetting to get undressed. Seven couldn’t come soon enough.

Their second dinner out was going just as well as the first one. They were laughing, talking, smiling, and altogether having a fantastic time. 

“Wait, so Neo just let you hit her?” Blake exclaimed, another salmon obliterated.

“She did let me do anything, she kicked my ass for four hours,” Yang said before popping a fry into her mouth. Blake took a moment before responding, staring at Yang with a wistful expression.

“Neo does that. Gods, I still remember the first time she came after me.”

“Oh?” Yang asked, raising an eyebrow in interest, “Did you take her on?”

“Hell no, I’m not crazy. I tried to skate around her, like I usually do to Brawlers, but she can move,” Blake said, then grabbed the salt and pepper, “It was like this,” she moved the salt across the table in a straight line, “I was going down the arena, making a rush for the goal, when I see her,” now the pepper was on the move, on an intercept course with the salt, “and she was hard to pick out in a match.”

“Even with the pink hair?” Yang asked, trying her best to focus on the diagram and not get lost staring at Blake instead. Blake flashed a smile at her, then returned to her story,

“Even with the pink hair. She was about...this close when I finally saw her.” The salt and pepper were nearly on top of one another at this point. “I tried to get away, but she’s quick,” The salt skidded towards Blake, the pepper in hot pursuit, “She would’ve gotten me too, if it wasn’t for Pyrrha.” Suddenly the ketchup was involved, sliding across the table and bowling over the pepper, sending flakes spilling across the table. Blake muttered a curse under her breath and started to clean up. Yang started to gather up some of the spilled pepper as well, glancing up at Blake as she did. She seemed far away, frowning at the ketchup bottle.

“I was sorry to hear about Pyrrha,” Yang said and Blake shrugged, gathering up the pepper in her napkin. 

“It was a while ago. She’s doing fine now,” she said, folding the napkin up neatly and placing in on her plate. “But thank you.” Yang smiled gently as Blake met her eyes, a burgeoning trust spreading there as they gazed at one another. “She comes up for matches sometimes. Maybe you’ll get to meet her.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll introduce you. Just don’t fall for her.”

“What?” Yang asked in confusion, furrowing her brow. Blake rolled her eyes playfully and leaned forward onto one hand.

“Everyone falls for Pyrrha when they meet her. She’s that kind of person, a magnetic personality.” 

Yang felt a well of confidence in her chest, a certainty that she didn’t know could exist. “I definitely won’t fall for Pyrrha.” Then a mischievous look came across her and she asked, “Did you?”

Blake smiled into her hand for a moment, then said, “I did. Not as bad as some people though. Gods, you should’ve seen Weiss when they first met. I thought she was going to faint.”

“Weiss? Really?” Yang asked. She hadn’t had many interactions with the woman, but the few they’d shared had taught her that Weiss was as collected as her sister. Where people like Nora and Penny would be shouting with joy, Weiss was sober and subdued, a small confident smirk the only sign of her pleasure. The only times that Weiss went off was when someone on the team screwed up especially bad. It seemed that between the two Schnee sisters, Weiss did most of the scolding. Winter was more of a silent ‘I can end your career with one word’ kind of judgement. The dynamic made Yang glad that she hadn’t been practicing with the full team yet. 

“Really,” Blake replied, “It’s the only time I’ve ever seen Weiss flustered.”

“I wish I could’ve seen it.”

Yang’s phone went off. She grumbled a bit as she pulled it out, then stopped as she saw who was calling. It was Ruby. Gods, it was a video call. She smiled sheepishly at Blake and held up the phone. “It’s my sister. Do you mind if I take it?”

Blake waved her free hand and settled it, fine with Yang taking the call. Yang gave her a grateful look, then started up the chat.  
“Hi Rubes!” she said as her sister’s face appeared on the screen. She was covered in flour and grease smudges and every so often the video would lag out, sending pixels flying. That was phone service in Patch for you.

“Hi Yang! How are you? How’s practice?” Ruby asked, her words nearly overlapping as she rushed to get them all out.

“Is she eating enough?” Tai called from the background, which made Ruby say,

“That too!”

Yang couldn’t help the smile on her face from growing wider as she talked with her family. It wasn’t the same easy smile as with Blake, but it was a close second. “I’ve been fine, practice is great. And yes, I’m eating fine. I’m out to eat right now, see?” She flipped the phone around to showcase the restaurant and her empty plate. Ruby relayed the message to their father, and his silence meant that he was satisfied. When Ruby turned back to Yang she asked,

“Who’s that with you?” 

Yang froze, suddenly aware that in her showcase of the restaurant she had also showcased Blake sitting across from her, “Uh,” she mumbled, then turned the Blake to whisper, “She saw you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” but Blake only waved her hand again, and amused look on her face as she whispered back,

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” 

Yang smiled again and returned to Ruby saying, “That’s my teammate, Blake,” Yang thought that the phone would shatter when Ruby’s eyes when wide and she shrieked, 

“Blake Belladonna?” Yang turned down the volume as quickly as she could. The long silence from her sister meant that Tai was telling her to keep it down. After a moment she said, “Can I meet her?” Yang looked over at Blake with a raised eyebrow, sending the question her way. Blake shrugged but straightened her posture a bit to seem more professional. With that taken care of she nodded and Yang turned the phone to face her. Ruby squealed and Blake put on a smile, but not the same kind of smile that Yang would plaster on behind the bar. It was kind and genuine, exuding a sense that she really was happy to meet you.

“Hi, Ruby,” Blake said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hi Bl-Miss Belladonna!” Ruby managed. Yang knew her sister enough to know that she was nervously stroking her hair as she spoke. 

“Yang’s told me a lot about you.” It was true, most of their conversations in the arena had been about Yang’s family and the Burning Rose, and Yang had absolutely gushed when Blake asked her about Ruby.

“O-only the good things, right?” Ruby asked nervously and Yang answered,

“No promises, sis.” 

Blake laughed as Ruby started to grumble good naturedly. “The best things,” Blake said, which seemed to put Ruby at ease. After that the conversation turned to other things, how it was on the team, what the days at the Burning Rose were like without Yang, any gossip from Patch. They talked with Ruby for another hour or so until she was dragged back to work. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, just the normal silence of two people collecting their thoughts.

“She seems nice,” Blake said.

“She is. I hope that she comes out here some time,” Yang replied, reaching into her pocket for her wallet. She wasn’t going to miss her chance to pay for this dinner, it was her turn. 

“Do you think she will?”

“Now that she knows I’m friends with you? She wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Yang said as she threw down enough to cover the meal and a generous tip. Blake stood and grabbed her coat and Yang followed suit, both of them making sure to wave to the old man who owned the place.

“So,” Blake asked as they waited for a cab, “You’ll be in the complex tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have another training session with Neo.”

“You mean another ass beating.”

“Same thing with her.”

They laughed for a joyous moment until the first drop of rain landed on Yang’s head. It was a warm rain for this time of year, which was good for those who had failed to bring umbrellas. Yang and Blake, being some of these unfortunate folks, huddled under the small overhang outside Old Man Shopkeep’s. 

“I didn’t think it was going to rain,” Blake said, looking up at the sky with a frown.

“I wouldn’t have taken a shower if I’d known,” Yang mumbled, which earned her an incredulous look from Blake. “Kidding, I’m kidding!” Blake laughed again and Yang fought the urge to slip an arm around her waist. They were just here for dinner. 

The cab pulled up and Blake took a deep breath as she steeled herself for the sprint to the curb. Yang smiled down at her and lifted up one side of her jacket.

“Might I offer you some cover in this trying time?” 

Blake looked over and shrugged, a shy smile flitting across her face, “I won’t say no.” With that she huddled against Yang, getting under as much of the jacket as she could. Yang’s breath caught in her throat as Blake pressed against her. It wasn’t a snuggle, or any kind of romantic press for that matter, but it was enough contact that Yang never wanted it to end. As a pair, they ran for the cab, Blake throwing open the door and letting the two dive into their seats, laughing up a storm to rival the one outside.   
As the cab took off the laughter petered out, but the feeling did not. Blake’s eyes were bright and vibrant with happiness as she looked over at Yang, who knew without a doubt that her eyes were just the same. Yang was so lost in Blake’s eyes that she almost didn’t hear her question.

“Maybe you could stop by after training tomorrow?”

It took Yang a moment to speak, but she did manage to. “I-yeah, that’d be great!”

“Good,” Blake said, and she seemed to collapse into the seat as if a great weight had suddenly lifted from her shoulders. “I-I’m glad.”

The rest of the ride was back to their normal joking manner, and it was over far too soon. As Yang stepped out of the cab she waved once more to Blake before the door closed and she vanished into the night. This time the feeling of happiness didn’t fade away like after their first dinner.

It was only a moment later when she realized that she had no way of knowing which condo was Blake’s. “Ah, grapes,” she muttered, but even that wasn’t enough to dampen her mood. She’d just have to call in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, the burn isn't quite as slow as I'd planned. But that's hardly the worst thing in the world, right?  
> Next week, the team plans something special for Yang.  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang's life finally settles into a solid routine and she begins to spend more time with Blake. In between practices, the two begin to grow much closer than either had ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bees keep on being the Bees and living their best lives.  
> A bit more angst in this chapter, but the big angsty moments are yet to come.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Neo signed as soon as Yang was back on her feet. It was true, Yang was in a good mood. The thought of spending the afternoon with Blake was the only thing on her mind, which probably had something to do with how soundly Neo kept beating her in sparring. At least today their matches were interspersed with practical lessons and instructions. Neo admitted that she had to adjust her teachings to fit Yang’s physique, the two were so dramatically different in build. Still, the lessons were simple and concrete, each one building on the last. For the life of her, Yang couldn’t believe that Neo had so much knowledge in her. It seemed like it would take at least three people to hold all that wisdom, and every last bit of it was about fighting. 

“Maybe I am,” Yang replied, “I have plans this afternoon.” Immediately after, Neo gestured for her to attack again, which promptly led to Yang winding up on the floor again. Yang groaned as she stood once again. Neo had yet to extend the courtesy of helping her back up. 

“Really? With...what the hell’s her name again? The one you’ve been training with,” Neo asked, steadying her stance as she waited for an answer.

“Blake?”

  
“That’s the bitch!” Neo signed happily before flying at Yang too quickly to be countered. Yang collided with the ropes around the ring and rebounded. Her feet tangled up and she collapsed, rolling to a halt in the center of the floor. From the ground she signed,

“Don’t call her a bitch,” which made Neo shrug.

“Turn of phrase. Try not to cross your legs next time you back up like that. You’re only going to trip.”

“I’ll remember that, thanks.”

“Just like you remembered to take even breaths?”

“I tried-”

“Or to keep your center of gravity low?” Neo asked, staring up at Yang with a fierce look in her eye. There was a tense moment as the two glowered at one another before Neo smirked and walked away. “I’m just messing with you. It’s a lot to handle over two days.”

“I can handle it,” Yang protested and Neo raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m just saying that I get why it’s not all sticking just yet.”

“Oh,” Yang murmured. She thought for a moment, considering her words carefully, then asked, “Neo? How many fights am I really going to get in?”

“If you’re good? Just one. Usually taking out a team’s Brawler makes the rest of them clam up.” The sheer desensitized calm in Neo’s signing sent a shiver down Yang’s spine, “It really depends who you’re up against. Why?”

Yang fiddled with the drawstrings on her shorts absentmindedly before responding. “I just...don’t like fighting. I mean, I like sparring. It’s fun, good exercise. But random violence doesn’t sit right with me.”

Neo relaxed, throwing both arms around the ropes as she relaxed. She cocked her head to the side and signed, “First off, it’s not random. You’re doing it for a reason. And second, there’s no hard feelings about it. Everyone knows it's a dangerous sport.”

“No hard feelings?” Yang didn’t know exactly how she was conveying disbelief in her signing, but Neo seemed to pick up on it quickly enough.

“Nah. Not unless you break their nose or something, but even that doesn’t last too long. And besides,” There was a sudden flash of something that might have been reassurance but it was lost behind Neo’s cocky exterior too quickly to be sure, “a Brawler’s only as violent as they want to be. If you just want to tackle people, go for it. If you want to get in a fight, that’s good too.”

“But Winter said-”

“Winter can stuff it,” Neo sneered, “She’ll take whatever she can get from you. She’s desperate.”

“Well, thanks a lot.”

“C’mon, Yang. Do you really think that she’d hire someone who’s never played before if she wasn’t?”

“So, what,” Yang said, forming the words slowly, with careful intent, “you’re saying the only reason I’m here is because there’s no other choice?”

Neo thought for a moment before responding, “Yeah, basically.” Yang’s heart sank at the thought of being something so easily quantifiable, so quickly dismissed, but before it could take root Neo continued, “But I think the reason you’re going to stay is because you have talent. Real talent.”

“You mean that?” Yang asked, scarcely believing what she’d seen. It would have been nice to have it recorded, for when Blake inevitably wanted to hear about today’s training.

“Trust me, between Bl...Blaze?” Neo stumbled over the name, searching with her eyes as if the roof could tell her.

“Blake,” Yang stressed the word as much as she was able.

“Right. Between Blake and me, you’re gonna be the best damn Brawler the Bumblebees have ever had.”

Yang smiled goofily at the praise. “Well tha-”

“Hit me.”

“Right.”

  
Yang could only stare aghast at the room in front of her. It was a beautifully handcrafted mahogany finish with a hanging chandelier and magnificent door leading deeper into the house. The room would’ve cost more than Yang’s hotel room for two weeks and this was just the mudroom. 

Now that Yang was inside one of the condos she could scarcely believe how opulent the place really was. The entire building oozed money as if the Schnees wanted everyone to know just how much capital they had to throw around. Though Yang paid no mind to business news, she knew that the Schnees were some of the richest people on Remnant. One day she’d have to ask how Winter had wound up coaching the Bumblebees rather than running the family business.

“Blake?” she called out, slipping her shoes off. She had called Blake before training, checking in to make sure that coming over was still fine. Blake could hardly keep herself contained as she responded with a quick ‘Yes! Of course!’, or perhaps that had been Yang’s imagination. Regardless, she had told her the number of her condo, number 16, and to just let herself in, as long as she called out when she entered. Yang had remembered to bring a spare change of clothes and grab a quick shower in the gym before coming over, the last thing Blake needed was to see her as a sweaty mess.

“Come in!” Blake’s voice came from the next room over, “How was training?”

“Good,” Yang called back as she stepped further into the house, “Neo was teaching me-oh gods, look at this place!” 

If Yang had to find a way to squeeze an entire mansion into a building the size of a seaside cottage, the interior of Blake’s condo would be the best example. All the woods were fine, finished paneling, all the countertops were beautiful granite, the lights gorgeous fixtures that seemed to bathe every room in a soft, ethereal glow, even the outlets looked fancy. It was another few moments before Yang realized that Blake was leaning awkwardly in the doorway to the living room, clutching her arm with one hand.

“Uh, yeah. Welcome. Do you-do you want some tea?” 

Yang smiled up at her, focusing all her wonder and confidence into that smile. “I would love some.” That made Blake smile in return and she gestured for Yang to follow her into the living room. Inside, there was a tray with two mugs of tea in the center of a small table, paralleled by a loveseat. 

“I hope you don’t mind sitting on the same chair,” Blake said, “I live here alone so I got rid of the stuff I didn’t need.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Yang followed Blake to the loveseat and took her tea when offered. It was a beautiful chamomile and the warmth seeped into Yang’s aching muscles as she drank. The two of them drank in silence, though it was hardly an awkward one, just the simple silence of two people enjoying each other’s company. After a few sips, Yang looked up. “This place is pretty big.”

“It is,” Blake agreed, “Too big for one person.”

“So that’s why you got rid of some things?”

“Yeah. There was no point in all the extra furniture if it was just going to be me, but a lot of the team have housemates.”

“Housemates, really?” Yang asked before returning to her tea. Blake nodded sagely between sips.

“Really. Penny lives with her dad, for one, and Nora’s boyfriend recently moved in.”

“Nora has a boyfriend?”

“Ren. I think you’d like him. There’s a few others too, some have their whole families up here.”

“Wow. But not you?” Yang asked and immediately Blake shrunk away from her on the loveseat. It was a small, subtle movement, but to Yang she might as well have left the room.   
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything rude.”

Blake shook her head forcefully, as if removing cobwebs from her mind. “It’s fine. I just...don’t really talk with Ghira and Kali that much. It’s better than it used to be, but they’re busy. I’m busy. We don’t have much time to talk.” Yang nodded slowly and didn’t pursue the subject. Blake let out a heavy breath and settled back onto the loveseat. “What about you? Do you think your family will move up here?”

Yang snorted and shook her head ruefully. “Not a chance. Ruby’s going to school at Beacon soon and dad would never leave Patch. But it’ll be nice to have room for them if they come to visit.” They drank their tea in silence again as Yang struggled to find something to say. Eventually a thought wafted across her mind and she went with it. “You seem pretty certain that I’ll be sticking around.”

Blake gave her a look that was halfway between amused and pleading, “Won’t you?”

Yang blinked rapidly for a few moments, taken aback. “I-I hope so. I want to.” Blake blushed and looked away. Yang smiled softly, for the first time feeling like she was seeing Blake Belladonna, without any strings attached.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like that,” Blake said bashfully, one hand gripping her knee tightly, her mug shaking slightly in her hand. Yang took in a deep breath, then reached out and gently rested her hand on Blake’s. She looked up at Yang in shock, and Yang almost snaked her hand back to her side but Blake’s expression wasn’t frightened or worried, just a bit amazed and confused.

“It’s okay,” Yang said softly, “you don’t have to apologize.” Blake blushed again and the grip on her knee loosened ever so slightly.

“It’s just that…” she started, then stopped, filling in the silence with more tea, “I don’t really know anyone on the team. I mean, they’re great, really, but I haven’t ever...”

“Gone out to dinner with them?” 

Blake laughed, a short and sweet sound, flooded with the nervousness and concern that must have been consuming her heart. “Exactly. They’ve offered before, Nora especially, but I never took them up on it. You were different.”

“Good different?” Yang asked, raising an eyebrow in an attempt to break the tension. It worked, at least in part, as Blake rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Obviously. I guess you just stuck out to me. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Yang murmured, “What you’re saying...feeling...it’s-it’s not stupid. It’s...dammit, I don’t know how to say this.”

Blake laughed again at that, this time the same rich, wonderful sound that Yang had come to yearn for. “You’re a wordsmith, Yang.”

“I should be a speechwriter, not a Deathsticks player,” Yang said, then broke into laughter of her own. 

“I’d love to see that,” Blake replied, flipping her hand over and giving Yang’s a squeeze. She didn’t need to say anything to communicate how she felt, the soft ‘Thank you’ held within that moment. Their hands returned to their sides, but Yang could feel the intimacy of the touch they had just shared, like a web spanning the distance between them. The conversation turned to other things, things that were much less likely to cause such tension. 

By the end of the afternoon, when Yang was getting ready to leave, Blake walked her to the front gate. The same mustached man, Klein, stood by to open the gate for them. “I’d have asked you to stay for dinner,” Blake explained, “but I don't really have anything ready.”

“It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, wasn’t it?” Yang asked and Blake nodded knowingly.

“I didn’t mind it though,” she said as they came to halt near the gate.

“Me neither,” Yang said, looking down at Blake with a smile. “Do you want to do it again? Hang out after practice, I mean.”

“I’d love to.”

Yang wanted to hug Blake so badly in that moment, but refused the urge. They were still just friends. A comforting hand hold was one thing, and that in itself had nearly sent Blake scurrying away. A hug could wait. Instead they waved awkwardly at one another and Yang left for her hotel. As she got into a cab to be driven away, she looked back to see Blake still standing there at the gate, waving with a kind smile. Yang waved back with a smile of her own before the cab tore the moment apart. 

The rest of the week settled into a solid routine for Yang, after that. Up at seven for breakfast, then practice with Blake from eight to nine, with the team until five, and then with Neo from five thirty to six thirty. The evenings were either spent at a restaurant with Blake or at Blake’s condo. 

It turned out that Blake was an excellent cook, throwing things together without a second thought. Much of her grace in the arena translated to her movement in the kitchen. It was almost like watching a dancer, Yang thought idly as she stared. She had offered to help, but Blake had shooed her away. It was probably for the best, Yang couldn’t cook to save her life. There was a reason why she worked the bar back in Patch. She didn’t mind, it was enough to just be with Blake at all. It made the lonely nights at the hotel bearable.   
More than that though, more than the wonderful food and the soft, giving furniture, spending time with Blake was just comfortable. She made Yang feel wanted in a way that she could never really remember feeling anywhere before. Sure, her family wanted her around but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t like how Blake made her feel like she could be, would be welcome at her worst and how she hoped that she made Blake feel the same way. 

Things in Yang’s life were finally starting to settle down, so much so that she had almost forgotten about her two week trial. Most of the second week had been spent practicing with the full team. That meant opening up the entire arena and getting a full match going, on top of specific practices for each position. Yang had all but been assigned as Blake’s bodyguard during the full matches, and she was more than happy to oblige. Much like at the start of her training Yang was thrown into the deep end with only Blake’s sturdy hands for support and, much like at the start, she learned quickly. Soon she wasn’t caught off guard by her opponents switching directions on the fly, could see incoming tackles long before they hit and position herself to intercept anyone who threatened Blake or who might be trying score against their team.

Being in a full match let Yang see how everyone else played. Weiss was a dervish of Screener, everywhere and nowhere at once, controlling the arena by her sheer presence. She could skate incredibly too, her movements agile and dexterous. 

Penny, on the other hand, was technical. Her skating was by the book precise, almost mechanical, but that didn’t stop her from rocketing across the arena and scoring before anyone knew what happened. Then, there was Nora. 

Yang had thought that Blake was exaggerating when she had implied that Nora couldn’t skate but it was the truth. Every few feet she would stumble over herself on the way to the goal, but once she was in position it was a different story. She was like a solid wall in front of the goal, blocking shots and hurling them back with uncanny ease. 

Blake, as Yang had come to expect, was like smoke, vanishing in and out of the opposing players and leaving them chasing a ghost. At first that ghost had taken the shape of Yang, who took more than a few tackles for her partner, but soon Yang was keeping pace with Blake well enough to avoid that kind of punishment. Of all the players, Blake scored the most and Yang was ecstatic after each goal. Blake allowed herself a small smile as well, which grew each time she heard Yang complimenting her. 

As for Yang, her lack of experience was evident. Like Blake had said, even Penny could handle her at first. It was like being back in the ring with Neo, Yang spent more time on the ground than on her feet, but she learned. She learned how to position her body properly for a tackle and how to brace herself to let her opponents bounce off without breaking her stride. By the end of the week some of the players were even actively avoiding her in the arena, intimidated as they were by Yang’s skill. Blake never stopped being impressed, gushing over how well Yang was doing after each practice. Yang tried to say that it was all thanks to Blake’s teaching, but after Nora joined in on Blake’s side it was impossible. 

“And then you clobbered Weiss! She went flying!” Nora shouted excitedly, pounding Yang on the back. 

“I would never have been able to if Blake hadn’t dodged away,” Yang tried to protest but Blake didn’t let that last long.

“Please, Yang, she and I have been playing together for years. She knows that move better than I do, hell, I learned it from her. You caught her fair and square. You should be proud.”

“Yeah!” Nora said, reaching around and giving Yang a squeeze that nearly collapsed her shoulders. “I’m so glad to have you on the team.”

Before Yang could explain, again, that she wasn’t on the team, a new voice cut in. It was cold and sharp like Winter’s, but younger and not yet tinged by years of cynicism. The three of them turned to find Weiss standing behind them, nursing a bruise on her arm. “It was a good hit, Yang.” Immediately Yang felt a rush of guilt for leaving such a nasty injury on her teammate.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry that I made you bruise. I really didn’t mean to tackle you that ha-”

Weiss waved her apology away with a disdainful smirk. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse. Besides, that wasn’t why I came to find you. Winter wants to talk.”

Yang’s heart sank. Right. This was Friday, the end of her two weeks. She shot Blake and Nora an apologetic smile and turned back to meet Winter. The coach was waiting in the entryway of the arena, arms folded across her chest, clipboard still in hand.

“Hello Yang.” 

“Hi Coach. You wanted to see me?”

“Indeed,” Winter said, letting out a long sigh, “As you’re no doubt aware, this is the end of your two weeks.” Yang nodded. Winter hadn’t yet given her implicit indication that she was allowed to speak. “I’ve taken quite a few notes on you over the past two weeks. You did well with skating, in the end, but your tackling needs some work, you can’t handle the ball, and you're absolutely abysmal in the ring.” Winter didn’t check her notes, she didn’t need to. The rest of what she said faded away as Yang drifted in her own horrible thoughts.

She was going home. She could already feel it in her bones, the same kind of sinking and snapping sensation that she knew too well from Patch, from Signal, from Beacon, and now...from Blake. Shit. _Shit_. She should have known better than to start setting down roots here, it was too soon. Things didn’t work out like that, things changed and shifted and ended too quickly for that. It was back to the Patch, back to the bar, back to the humdrum of normal life, life without someone like Blake to light it up. She would miss talking with Blake, training with Blake, but most importantly she would miss that laugh. Maybe they could text. Yang had gotten Blake’s cell number during one of their dinners, but what would that accomplish? They were still just friends, barely past being strangers. Yang opened her mouth to thank Winter for taking a chance on her and that she’d clean the equipment before putting it back when Winter said,

“So welcome to the team.”

“What?”

“The team,” Winter said seriously, “welcome.”

“I-what?” Yang stumbled over her words, Winter’s proclamation not quite sinking in. Winter’s displeasure at Yang’s failure to understand was evident.

“Am I going to have to explain everything to you three times? You’re on the team. Congratulations. What number do you want on your jersey?” The only number that appeared in Yang’s mind was Blake’s 27.

“Uh, is seventy-two open?” 

“Seventy-two it is.”

Yang almost didn’t see Winter's extended hand in her shock but took it firmly when she did. There was the press of something cold and metal on Yang’s hand and she looked down to see a small key had been placed there. The key to her condo, number 15. Right next to Blake’s. By the time Yang looked up from the key, Winter had already walked past her towards the elevator. “Thanks coach!” Yang called after her and Winter responded without even looking back.

“Klein will be by the hotel to pick you up soon. Pack up all your things and don’t be late to training. Neo’s waiting to congratulate you as well.” 

Yang was too dumbfounded to respond. She was staying somewhere, somewhere with people that she knew and liked, somewhere that was entirely of her own making. What a concept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, right, there's supposed to be sports in this sports AU.  
> A bit of a shorter chapter today, the curse of not having a solid outline when planning out a story.   
> Hope you're all still enjoying it!  
> Comments always appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang celebrates her acceptance onto the Beacon Bumblebees with the team! The next day she and Blake go out for something that's definitely, absolutely, not a date.  
> Promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to see Yang interact with the other characters more directly! Hurray!
> 
> Lots of alcohol in this chapter, so if that's not your bag steer clear. If you want to skip over that, the scene changes about halfway through the chapter and there are no mentions after that point.

Neo’s form of congratulations was acting slightly less superior than she usually did and by allowing Yang to take Saturday off. Their training that evening was more freeform, as Neo said it would always be on Fridays, but that didn’t stop her from throwing Yang around the ring like a ragdoll.

The real congratulations was waiting for Yang when she got back to number 15. It was fortunate that Klein had helped her move in earlier that day, or there was no way she would have been ready for the crowd outside her new apartment. It looked like the whole team was there, even Weiss had deigned to join them. There were two coolers placed on the lawn and someone had set up a table that sported no less than six soups and four casseroles. The thing that caught Yang’s eye fastest was the makeshift bar on the front drive, made of a folding table, a bucket of ice, and whatever half empty bottles of alcohol the team could spare. 

Penny squealed, “She’s here!” and immediately the team surged forwards, crowding around Yang and offering their congratulations. There were too many names to process, too many faces to remember all in one night, and Yang was slowly finding herself overwhelmed by the support the team was showing her. Nora forced her way to the front of the crowd and pumped Yang’s arm up and down with a firm handshake.

“Congratulations Yang!” she yelled, “Welcome home!” She grabbed Yang’s arm and dragged her towards the table of food while Penny grabbed Yang’s bag of sparring gear and dropped it in front of her house. “We’ve been starving, where were you?” Nora asked, shoving a plate into Yang’s hands and gesturing for her to get some food. Yang did so and the moment she had a full plate the team swarmed the table, descending like locusts onto the fields of Babylon.

“I was training,” she said, slipping out of the crowd as she did with Nora right behind her. There were chairs set up on the yard as well and Yang made her way to them, gratefully collapsing into one. “Winter’s got me doing Brawler training after practice.”

“On top of your special training with Blake?” Weiss took a seat near Yang with a plate of spinach casserole, “That’s ridiculous. I’ll talk to her about it.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve put up with it so far, haven’t I?” Yang said, deflecting the complaint away as easily as if she was back at the bar.

“It’s not fine,” Weiss huffed, poking gingerly at her food, “no one should have to work that hard.”

“But you did, Weiss!” Penny said as she appeared from behind the trio, plopping down in between Weiss and Yang. 

“Really?” Yang asked through a mouthful of mac and cheese, which made Nora nod so vigorously Yang worried that she might choke on her food.

“I did, but I stopped. It was too much to do over a long period of time,” Weiss said matter of factly before finally starting to eat, “Besides, the last thing Yang needs is to be overworked.”

“I’m fine,” Yang said, stressing the words.

“Oh my gods, enough of this boring talk,” Nora groaned, her plate already empty, “Weiss where’s that bartender you called?”

“Oh. Him,” Weiss said icily, so much so that it might have been a snarl but the ever collected woman would never admit it. “He’s not coming.”

“How am I going to get an old fashioned now?” Nora grumbled, standing up for more food.

“Won’t beer do?” Penny asked helpfully, which earned her a scathing look from Nora.

“Of course not! There’s something special about a mixed drink, something...personal.”

“You need someone to make drinks?” Yang asked, sliding the question in like it was the most innocent thing in the world. Everyone stopped to look at her with looks ranging from mild curiosity to utterly aghast. 

“You can’t make drinks, that’s work. It’s your congratulations party!” Nora said, but Yang was already on her feet.

“I don’t mind,” Yang said. Weiss gave her an incredulous look and asked,

“Where did you learn to mix drinks?”

“I was a bartender for four years back in Patch,” Yang said with a shrug. Nora looked about to deny her again but Weiss spoke up first.

“It’s your party, Yang. You can spend it how you like.” She shot Nora an icy glare and the exuberant woman held up her hands in a peacemaking gesture. 

“Then you can find me at the bar,” Yang said as she started to walk away, “What do you three want?”

“A white Atlesean, please,” Weiss said and Nora repeated her order for an old fashioned. Yang turned to Penny.

“What about you, Penny?”

“I don’t really know,” Penny said politely, hands folded in her lap but her legs bouncing excitedly, “Surprise me!”

“Strawberry sunrise it is,” Yang said with a wink and made her way to the bar. It wasn’t even close to being as fully stocked as the one back in the Burning Rose, but all the essentials were there. Yang threw together the drinks for Weiss and company and that was all it took for people to realize her intentions. Apparently word of the disappearing mixologist spread quickly and, while a few other team members tried to get Yang to step down and celebrate, the whole team was grateful for her service. Before long Yang was slinging drinks like she used to, a two week break doing nothing to rid her of her skill. A handful of the team grabbed chairs and placed them in front of the bar to complete the aesthetic and soon there was a revolving cast of characters in and out of the bar as the hours rolled by. 

It was just like being back in Patch except that it wasn’t at all, not really. People here weren’t customers, they were teammates. Their questions about Yang’s life, her family, how much she was liking being on the team so far, were genuine attempts to get to know her rather than attempts to butter her up for free drinks. To put it simply, the people she was serving now actually cared. She couldn’t say that about anyone she’d served back in Patch. On top of that, Yang felt more confident here than in the arena. Things had been getting better in the arena, sure, but this felt comfortable, familiar. Yang half expected it to make her feel homesick, but the feeling never came. This was just something she could do, a skill like any other, not something that defined her like she used to think it was. 

Before long Weiss slid into a seat, followed by Penny who still hadn’t finished her strawberry sunrise. Yang looked up with a patient grin. “How’re you liking that, Penny?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” Penny replied and took a big sip of her drink as emphasis. It wasn’t the same drinking a strawberry sunrise out of a solo cup, but Yang knew how to throw together her favorite drink. 

“I’m glad to hear it. Refill, Weiss?”

“Please,” Weiss said, sliding her cup to Yang who started on the drink right away. “But that will be the last one. I hate being hungover.”

Yang nodded sagely as she prepared the white Atlesean, pouring it expertly into the waiting cup. “So,” she asked as she began to clean her shaker, “how’d you guys get this organized? I didn’t even know I was on the team until, like, two hours ago.”

“Weiss planned it all,” Penny chimed in, a lazy, dopey smile starting to form. Out of habit, Yang made a mental note of how quickly Penny was getting tipsy.

“It’s been obvious you were going to be on the team,” Weiss said, then took a long sip from her drink, smacking her lips in satisfaction as she finished, “Winter wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“And that was all you needed to plan this?” Yang said, gesturing at the party. Nora was in the distance, leading some of their more drunken teammates in a song, the food was nearly gone, and at least one cooler of beer was empty. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.

“Winter wouldn’t hire Neopolitan if she didn’t think you were going to make the cut. There’s lots of Brawler trainers out there and Neo is...expensive.” The way Weiss said it, the way she dragged out the pause between words, made it clear that Neo was a luxury few could afford.

Yang winced. “I didn’t know that.”

Weiss shrugged and took another sip of her drink. “At least you proved her right.”

“And how do you think I’m doing?” Yang asked, and Penny immediately cut in, words slightly slurred now that she had finished her drink,

“You-you’re great. Really. I jus’, I wanna play more with you, you know?” Yang reached out and slid the empty cup away from Penny, refilling it with water. “Thanks!” The song Nora was leading changed, grabbing Penny’s interest and she smiled before stumbling away.

Weiss looked after her with a small smile. “Lightweight,” she teased the woman, who was by now far out of earshot, then turned back to Yang. “She’s right though. You’re doing very well for a rookie.” Yang’s smile broadened and Weiss looked away as if embarrassed. “I think you’ll be an asset to the team.”

“High praise from the coach’s sister.”

“Who better to get it from?”

Blake. The name was first and foremost in Yang’s mind. If she trusted anyone to tell her that she was doing well, it was Blake. She was also the only person that Yang hadn’t seen at the party. “I suppose so. Hey, have you seen Blake?”

Weiss shrugged dismissively and finished her drink. “She’s not a big fan of parties, but I’m sure you’ll see her later.”

“O-oh? Why’s that?” Yang asked, face flushing at the thought of her infatuation with Blake being called out easily. Weiss seemed not to notice her blush and pointed over Yang’s shoulder at the apartment next door.

“Because you’re neighbors. You’d have to try harder not to run into each other.”

Yang managed to play off her stammer as the effect of too much to drink, though she hadn’t touched a drop all night. There was a cry of, “Nora’s going down!” and both women looked over to see Nora collapse into a drunken puddle on the ground. Her teammates gathered round, getting her up and making sure she was all right, while Weiss pulled out her phone.

“I’ll call Ren,” she yelled to the team and then grumbled, “He was right to worry about her tonight,” before putting the call through. 

Yang watched in mild interest as a tall, handsome man with straight black hair, dressed in green pajamas, arrived and began to load Nora into his car. He looked around after she was secured inside and gave Weiss an appreciative wave. She waved back, then stood and stretched. “I think that’ll do it for me. Congratulations again, Yang.” 

“Thanks Weiss. I’ll see you at practice,” Yang said and Weiss nodded curtly before beginning to walk to her condo. The party only lasted another hour or so after that, and Yang was kept busy serving drinks. As the night wound down the team set to cleaning up after themselves, insisting that Yang sit back and take a break for once in her life. By the end of it, the place was nearly spotless, aside from a stray cup or paper plate. The bar and buffet had even been broken down and the tables were laying on the yard. Penny had told Yang that someone would be around to pick them up in the morning. As Yang waved goodbye to the last of her teammates she let out a long sigh and began to relax, happy that she had the chance to sleep in tomorrow.

“Are you still serving drinks?” someone asked, a voice that Yang immediately recognized as Blake’s. She turned around with a huge smile, the tiredness at bay for now.

“Only for you,” Yang said, before realizing that all of her mixed drink supplies were long gone.

“By default, yes,” Blake said as she approached. “Congrats on joining the team by the way.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You would’ve been fine.”

Yang shrugged, letting the argument go. They had compromised, after all. “You still want that drink?”

“Only if you’re having one.”

Yang nodded and looked around, finding little to work with outside of a six pack on the ground and a hose faucet. “Well, I can offer you some water or shitty beer.”

Blake chuckled then grabbed a warm beer off the ground and looked it over. “How shitty?” 

Yang grabbed one as well and checked the label-Black Cloak Beer, straight from Solitas. “Real shitty,” she replied but cracked it open anyway. Blake followed suit and they cheersed before drinking. Blake immediately spat hers back out on the ground and grimaced.

“Oh gods, you weren’t kidding. That’s awful.”

“Mhm,” Yang said, taking another sip, “It’s better in bread than as a beer, at least that’s what dad says.”

“Beer bread?” 

“Yeah, it’s really good, especially if you cook it with some butter painted over the top. I could eat that for days.” 

“Can you make it?” Blake asked, looking at her beer contemplatively, “I mean, you have all this spare beer.”

Yang scratched the back of her head and smiled to cover up her embarrassment, “Uh, not really. I’m not allowed to cook at home.”

“That bad, huh?” Blake laughed and took another sip of her beer. She grimaced again, but managed to get it down.

“There’s been some horror stories over the years.”

“Tell me one.”

“Hmm?”

“One of your cooking horror stories. I’d like to hear one.”

“Okay,” Yang said, shifting into a more relaxed stance, “Just don’t laugh at me, okay?”

Blake smirked. “No promises.”

That would have to do. Yang spent another hour telling Blake all kinds of stories, from the time she’d made cookies without sugar to the time her dress had caught fire during a cookout.

“Oh my gods,” Blake gasped between bouts of laughter, “were you okay?”

“I was fine,” Yang said, glad that she could make Blake laugh this much, “But I swore off dresses for good after that.”

“No dresses at all? What do you wear to fancy dinners and things?”

Yang decided not to point out that the closest thing Patch had to a fancy dinner was a town wide fish fry in the summer. “Suits. I borrowed one of my dad’s once and thought I looked damn good. Stuck with it ever since.”

“Do you have one with you?” Blake asked.

“Why? Do you want me to model it?” Yang asked cheekily and Blake blushed, covering her mouth with one hand. 

“Maybe,” she said after a moment and struggled through another sip of beer. “Are you offering?”

“If I had one with me, I would be,” Yang said and took a long drink of her beer. When she finished Blake was laughing again.

“You didn’t bring one?”

“I didn’t think I’d be staying that long, honestly.”

“But now you are.”

“Now I am.” They stared at one another for a moment and Yang allowed herself to get lost in Blake’s gorgeous amber eyes. Blake looked equally enraptured, a shy smile spreading across her face. Yang managed to speak, though she longed for that moment of calm to continue. “I’ll ask my dad to ship me one. Then I can model it for you.”

Blake hummed happily. “I can’t wait.” She stretched and yawned before placing her half full beer lightly on the ground. “But right now, it’s late, and I’m tired. See you tomorrow?”

Yang nodded quickly, hoping that it didn’t come off as too eager. “Sure. Neo gave me tomorrow off anyway, so we have all day to do things. Just, ah, come over when you’re ready.” Blake took a step back, her smile staying just as bright as she started to walk away.

“I will. Night, neighbor.”

“Night!” Yang waved as Blake went home. 

Gods, they were neighbors now. As Yang bent down to gather up the leftover trash and warm Black Cloak she couldn’t stop smiling. Sometimes, she supposed, things worked out all right. 

It would be nice to spend a day with Blake that didn’t have any training involved. It was all well and good to spend the evenings together after practice, but by that point they were both exhausted and ready to call it, punctuating their sentences with yawns and fluttering eyelids. Today they were both wide awake, and ready for anything.

Yang was dressed in her best casual clothes, which consisted of a flannel shirt over a tank top and the only pair of jeans she owned that didn’t have holes, yet. Blake was dressed in a similar fashion, swapping the flannel for a leather jacket, her hair tucked up in a bun, but somehow she managed to make even the simplest outfit look stunning

“So, the movies?” Yang asked as she finished putting on her shoes. Blake nodded firmly, standing in the doorway while she waited for Yang.

“Yup. There’s a new horror movie I wanted to go see. I was going to see it today anyway and you had today off, so I figured you might want to come.”

Yang stood and the pair walked out the door, Yang being sure to lock it behind her. “Horror’s not really my thing,” she said, nervously scratching the back of her head. That wasn’t strictly true, it was just that she had a habit of grabbing hold of the nearest person whenever something scary happened. She put on a brave face for Ruby when they would watch horror movies at home, but at least one hand had a white knuckle grip on the couch the whole time. “I don’t mind going to see it though. What’s it called?”

“ _ Night of the King Taijitu _ . It’s supposed to be pretty bad, actually,” Blake said with a shrug.

“So why go see it?”

“Sometimes it’s fun to watch bad movies. Especially when you have someone to laugh at them with.”

Yang agreed with that and the two climbed into a cab to drive to the movie theater. For a Saturday it was fairly empty and the theater for their movie even more so. By the time the lights dimmed there were only a handful of other people in the theater. All of them, Yang noticed with growing anxiety, were couples. She distracted herself from the thought with popcorn and cracking jokes with Blake, but that didn’t keep the thought from lingering in the back of her mind.

It made sense why this was a couple’s choice as soon as the movie started. Everything about the movie was gods awful, from the writing, to the acting, to the CGI mess that tried its best to stand in for a gigantic two headed snake. It would be an easy movie to ignore and focus on other, more personal, matters. Yang tried her best to forget that they were surrounded by kissing couples but it was difficult. If she had to guess, even the pair of senior citizens in the back were getting handsy. She distracted herself the only way she could, by focusing on Blake.

Blake frowned every time the snake appeared on screen, a growing displeasure as the snake began to look more cartoonish the longer the movie ran.

“Hey,” Yang muttered, nudging her, “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s just the effects for the movie.”

“They are pretty bad.”

Blake stifled a laugh before saying, “It’s not just that. A friend of mine worked on this movie.”

“Really?” Yang asked, her eyebrows shooting up, “You know someone in film?”

“My childhood friend, Ilia. She was the lead VFX artist on this movie.”

Yang studied the snake again as the film entered its less than thrilling second act. “I don’t mean to insult your friend but…” she trailed off and studied Blake, afraid that she had said something wrong. Blake only smirked and shook her head.

“It wasn’t her fault, I mean she’s a master at this stuff. The studio kept pushing them to do it faster, and forcing them to work overtime. There’s actually a shot she told me to look out for, it should be coming up.” Both of them turned to watch the screen. The snake smashed through a building, but the motion seemed jittery, wrong even for such a horrible effect. Blake nodded knowingly as she watched, “That’s the one.”

“What’s up with it?”

“The snake vanishes at one point. It’s only two frames or so, but it’s enough to stand out.”

“How did that get into the final cut?” Yang asked, which made Blake scoff.

“The studio had a deadline. Ilia tried her best.”

Yang snickered at that, then leapt upright in her seat as the snake exploded out of a sewer drain accompanied by a powerful orchestra hit. It was a moment before she realized that she had one hand over her pounding heart and the other entwined with Blake’s. She quickly dropped Blake’s hand, smiling sheepishly and hoping that the dimmed theater lights hid her blush. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t expect you to startle so easily,” Blake said and Yang tilted her head in mock shame.

“Courtesy of growing up with a little sister obsessed with playing Monsters and Huntresses.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like hide and seek, but with more jumping out and screaming. I swear, she got me down to my last nerve by the time I started at Signal.”

Blake cocked her head to the side and considered Yang for a moment. “So if I were to suddenl-boo!” She hissed the last word and pounced at Yang as best as their seats would allow. Yang didn’t even flinch.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” she said dryly and Blake settled back into her seat, pleased with herself.

“Thank you.”

They watched the rest of the movie in contented silence, every now and then cracking a joke at the poor acting. 

When the lights came up it was obvious that Yang’s assessment of the crowd had been correct. More than a few of their fellow patrons had frizzy, mussed up hair, and the old man had lipstick marks all over his face. 

“Geez,” Yang said as they watched the rest of the audience leave, “I guess no one else appreciates art.”

Blake snorted and leaned on the armrest between them. “I guess so.” They sat and watched the credits for a few more minutes until Blake pointed and said, “There!” Yang followed her finger and, sure enough, there was the name Ilia Amitola next to the title Lead VFX Artist. “All right, we can go.”

For a moment Yang was tempted to say, ‘Just one more thing’ and reach out for Blake’s cheek, cup it in her hand and draw her in for a kiss, but she let the thought pass by without incident. As they stood, Blake shot her a look that almost seemed disappointed, but Yang assured herself she was seeing things. The lights were still dim. Being around too many kissing couples was putting unwanted thoughts into her brain.

But she knew they weren’t really unwanted. 

They had a lovely rest of the day, traveling around downtown Vale. Blake pointed out her favorite places to stop for coffee, her favorite bookshops, of which there were quite a few, and a few clothing stores.

“They do tailored fittings in there,” she’d said, pointing to one called Maiden’s Wardrobe, “in case you need a new suit.”

“I might just do that,” Yang had replied, “Since you seem so intent on seeing me in one.” Blake’s cheeks had flushed red and she’d been forced to look away.

“You brought up wearing suits,” she’d said. Yang had grinned devilishly.

“And you keep talking about it. You must really want me to model one for you.”

Blake had rolled her eyes and pushed on ahead, laughing. Yang had quickened her pace to catch up and the two had giggled themselves silly before they had dinner and caught a cab back to the complex.

They walked side by side up the long street to their condos. Yang felt a pressure in her chest, her soul, something that was dying to get out and explain to Blake how she was feeling, what she had hoped their day out really meant. No matter how much Yang tried to push the feelings back down, they pressed on regardless, past her defenses and into the open. But Yang had never been blessed with a silver tongue, especially around Blake.

“Hey, Blake,” she said, coming to a halt. Blake stopped and cocked her head to the side, the shattered moon making her eyes shine all the brighter. “Thanks. Uh, for training me and-” there was the pause, the hurdle that Yang knew she wouldn’t be able to resist throwing herself over this time, “and for getting to know me.”

Blake flushed a deep shade of red, evident even in the pale moonlight. “I-I mean, you’re welcome. You were...I didn’t just get to know you because Winter made me teach you.”

“I know,” Yang said and somehow she did know. She could see the intention in Blake’s stance but also the hesitance. She was as nervous about this as Yang, maybe even more so. 

“You just...you were...good.” Blake finished lamely, studying the concrete and covering her mouth with her hand. “Really good. To me.” It was so quiet that Yang didn’t think she’d heard the words properly, but once they were in the open air there was no denying them. 

Yang wanted to say that she was more than glad that Blake had gotten to know her. She wanted to say that Blake was someone that she couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to know, and more still that she was someone that Yang couldn’t bear to lose. But saying that would make it real. It would make the feelings tangible and something that would need to be dealt with. It was easier to not commit so much of herself to someone else. Everyone left, after all.

It was easier just to end it there, easier to just nod politely and pretend that what they’d said didn’t mean what they both knew it did but didn’t dare to speak. It was easier to...easier to...

Oh to hell with it. It was easier to be with Blake.

“D’you want to come to my condo?” Yang asked, running a hand through her voluminous hair, “For some tea?” Yang knew what that kind of invitation could mean, what it could lead to, but that wasn’t what she meant. It wasn’t sex that Yang wanted. She wanted Blake to be near, to know that she was close. That was all she needed tonight. 

Blake studied her for a long moment, the silence stretching on into eternity before she said, “Tea sounds nice.”

Yang had remembered to get some tea before she had moved into the complex. It had been intended as a farewell gift for Blake, but she was glad that it had a happier purpose now.

The two sat on the loveseat in Yang’s condo, sipping their tea. Their legs touched lightly, brushing against one another. They sat in a happy silence, drinking in each other as much as they did their tea. 

Yang didn’t know when she had slung an arm around Blake’s shoulders, but the smaller woman leaned into Yang’s side, nuzzling against her softly. Blake was warm, comfortable. She fit nicely against Yang, like she was meant to be there. They locked together like a beautiful puzzle, resting as the stars wheeled by overhead. 

Blake set her empty mug onto the coffee table and Yang said, “Do you want some more?”

“No,” Blake said, snuggling closer to Yang and resting her head on Yang’s chest. “This is better.” Yang placed her lips against Blake’s head. It wasn’t a kiss, just a light touch, and Blake shivered at the contact.

“At least let me get some blankets,” Yang said and Blake giggled before letting her stand. Yang returned with a thick woolen blanket that was usually reserved for the bed but tonight, well, she didn’t think the bed would have much use for it. Blake opened her arms welcomingly and Yang melted into them, settling in just as quickly as before.

The tension in her body, the readied instincts of her walled off heart and easy manner, flowed out as they rested there, tangled in one another like a tapestry. Blake relaxed as well, curling around Yang’s body, and soon her even breaths let Yang know that she was asleep. Yang smiled down at her and pressed her lips to the top of her head again. One of her cat ears flicked, and she mumbled something in her sleep but didn’t stir.

As Yang drifted off beside her she couldn't help but think that this was what rest was supposed to feel like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite bees are finally making some big moves in their relationship!  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang and Blake deal with the aftermath of their night together, while the team gets ready for their first match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sports related violence in this one. Nothing graphic, but still some violence in this chapter.

Yang groaned as she woke up, muscles stiff and unresponsive. She was...on the couch? She hadn’t slept on the couch since she was in college, her dad made sure of it. It took her a moment of looking around the unfamiliar room to realize that she was in her condo, in the team’s complex. She looked over at the soft weight against her to find Blake, still asleep, head tucked against her chest. She snored softly as she slept, the rumble of her breathing calming Yang’s nerves. That was right. She was at home, with the woman she loved.

Loved. That was what she had just thought. Was that what was happening? It had to be, why else would she be feeling the way she did? She let out a long breath and looked down fondly at Blake. Yeah. ‘Loved’ sounded about right. 

Yang had thought that she’d loved someone before, a few times in fact. She’d had plenty of girlfriends over the years, but none of them had felt like this. None of them managed to make her stumble over every other word with just a smile, none of them could make Yang admit the things that she kept so close to her chest that even she couldn’t see them clearly. Only Blake could do that. She felt safe with Blake. No one else saw her without her walls, not even her family, but Blake could get past all that with a single stare. Sometimes Yang felt like she was being taken in by Blake’s eyes, surrounded and held in the most beautiful embrace. She felt like she could just be...her. There was no cockiness, no self-assured flirting, none of the things that Yang used to keep herself from getting hurt. 

Blake mumbled something and tucked herself closer to Yang, and Yang stroked a stray lock of hair behind her partner’s ear. 

There was a loud knock on the door and Blake startled awake, looking around madly until her gaze settled on Yang. Her eyes were wild, and there was such a pure, unforgiving fear deep within them that Yang couldn’t stop the surge of protectiveness she felt sweeping over her. She could see that someone had hurt Blake. Yang had to fight to stop from gritting her teeth in outrage that someone would dare to hurt someone so amazing. 

The moment that Blake locked eyes with Yang she let out a strangled cry and a smile appeared on her face. It was a small, delicate thing, but it was enough to let Yang know that Blake felt safe with her too. She would never do anything to jeopardize that trust. There was another knock at the door, more insistent.

“I should get that,” Yang muttered, leaning in and planting a small kiss on the top of Blake’s head. It was a kiss this time, that was certain. 

“You should,” Blake agreed, but neither of them moved to get up. They sat there, drawing comfort from one another. “You smell nice. Like oranges.”

“Thanks,” Yang said, breathing in Blake as well. She smelled like antiquity, class, and knowledge, the wafting smell of old books and chamomile tea. 

There was another knock, more of a pound now. Yang let out an exasperated sigh and Blake laughed softly before beginning to untangle herself from Yang’s embrace. The moment the two were separated Yang yeared for the connection to return, she wanted to feel Blake’s body against hers again, but the knock kept that reality at bay.

“All right, all right!” she said as she opened the door. She looked out, only seeing the impatient head of brown and pink hair in the corner of her eye. “Oh. Hey, Neo,” she signed.

“You’re late,” Neo signed back, frowning and tapping her foot.

“Late? For what?” Yang asked, still drunk on the feeling of Blake’s touch, on their night together.

“Practice, dumbass. I only gave you yesterday off.”

“What? I’m not...what time is it?” Yang asked, grabbing her phone and checking the clock to find that it was 10:30. “Sorry.”

“You better have a good excuse,” Neo signed angrily, hand motions quick and agitated. She looked beyond the doorway and into the condo itself and Yang followed her gaze to find Blake standing in the archway to the living room, draped in the blanket. She waved awkwardly before stepping out of view. Neo looked back at Yang with a contemptuous, almost disdainful expression. “Really?”

“She was tired after we spent the day out yesterday, so I offered to let her stay,” Yang replied, failing to keep her cheeks from turning red.

“Uhuh.”

“I didn’t mean to be late, we just slept really well!”

“Yang,” Neo signed, “I had plenty of partners when I was a full time player. They never made me late for practice.”

They didn't mean as much to you,” Yang snapped and immediately she shrunk back into the doorway as Neo glared at her openly.

“Don’t get snippy with me.”

Yang sighed and tried to put on an apologetic face, but the shift between calm and loved to brash and annoyed had been too quick. Neo had that effect on people. “Neo, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Neo continued to glare, signing, “Ring. Now.” 

Yang nodded slowly and headed back inside as Neo stormed off towards the gym. Blake poked her head around the archway now that the coast was clear, still wrapped in the blanket. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, not really,” Yang sighed, “Neo got angry that I was late to practice.”

“You’re late? What time is it?” Blake asked, furrowing her brow.

“Ten-thirty.”

“Oh. Shit, I’m sorry for making you late,” Blake said hurriedly, throwing off the blanket and making a beeline for her shoes. “I’ll just be going.” Yang stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder and a calm smile, her crabbiness forgotten. 

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said and Blake whirled around, her face a mask of confusion.

“I-but I made you late. If I hadn’t spent the night,”

“It’s fine, Blake. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Yang said again, “I mean that. You didn’t make me late and besides I don’t mind. It’s like...like…” words failed her for a moment, “Like the tea last night. This was...I mean, you, you were better.”

Blake’s expression softened as she gazed up at Yang, and placed one hand on top of hers. “Okay,” she said. It was all she needed to say to let Yang know that she was feeling better. The confusion flooded out of her face, replaced by the same serene calm that had been evident while she slept. “I still need to get my shoes, though.”

Yang smirked and said, “Right,” then went into the living room to grab her bag of workout clothes. Blake was waiting for her at the door. Although it was only a short walk to Blake’s condo, no more than fifty feet between their yards, it was long enough for her to entwine her fingers with Yang’s. She gave the blonde woman a hug before she turned to head into her condo. Yang promised that she wouldn’t let Neo throw her around too much this time, but Blake’s laugh let her know that they were both aware that Yang had little control over that.

When Yang reached the gym Neo was still fuming, the poor punching bag she was practicing on rocking unsteadily. The flowing brown and pink hair whipped around as Yang approached and Neo jabbed a finger at the ring. Yang climbed inside, and Neo waved her forwards impatiently without even her customary signing of ‘Hit me”. 

Today there were no proper lessons, just Neo and Yang slugging it out in the ring. It wasn’t that Yang didn’t try to stop and ask for clarification on a particular piece of footwork or way to throw a punch, but Neo was having none of it, gesturing wildly for Yang to continue their fight. 

After being thrown to the floor for what felt like the thousandth time that day, Yang managed to roll away and get some breathing room. She held up one hand for a moment and signed, “Just give me a second, okay?” Neo nodded curtly and walked over to the ropes while Yang got to her feet, rolled her shoulders and groaned, the pads not doing much to keep her from feeling the weight of each hit and each throw. Yang glanced over at Neo, who had sunk into a crouch and was resting her chin in one hand. “Hey, uh...you okay?”

Neo looked up in mild curiosity and shrugged. “Sure.”

“Really? Cause you looked like you wanted to kill me when I came in today,” Yang said, using the respite to stretch her sore muscles.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m usually better at controlling myself.” 

That got Yang’s attention fully and she nearly started to gape. “You’re sorry?”

Neo glared at her again, but it had none of the true anger that her earlier expression held. “Don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

“I just...what’s up? I mean, If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

“Are you this hesitant around Blake?”

“I-no!” Yang signed hurriedly feeling an embarrassed warmth permeate from her core, “Sometimes.”

Neo got back to her feet and cracked her knuckles. “Don’t worry about it. Now, c’mon. Hit me.”

Yang sighed and rolled her eyes before continuing, but the rest of their training session went smoothly. It was just like all the other afternoons that Yang spent getting her ass handed to her by Neo. At the very least, whatever tension had existed between them that morning was abated. Yang put the thought aside. It wasn’t her place to pry. 

Maybe it was how they always smiled at one another when they passed in the arena. Maybe it was how they were always quick to cheer one another’s successes and console their failures. Maybe it was how they always walked to and from practice together. Whatever the reason, the news of Yang and Blake becoming a couple had spread across the team in a matter of days. They hadn’t started holding hands openly, at least not at first. It had taken Nora bundling them both into a hug after winning a practice match and saying “You two are so cute together!” to start that trend. If anyone had been in doubt as to their relationship beforehand, that sealed the deal. 

Yang saw a lot of Blake over the next few weeks. Her practice schedule didn’t change, despite Weiss saying that she had tried her hardest to get Winter to ease up, so her mornings always started with Blake. By this point their personal practice was taking the form of playfully chasing one another around the arena or with Blake trying, unsuccessfully, to teach Yang how to handle the ball. For all her improvements at skating, tackling, and even fighting, how to use a Deathstick for its intended purpose was beyond her. 

They spent their evenings together, sometimes going out to eat or watching a movie and sometimes just being in the same room, doing their own thing. It wasn’t the act of doing something together that they were after, it was their closeness. Blake had begun to lean into it, often staying at Yang’s condo overnight. Her place was too big, she liked to say, that Yang’s felt more homely. Yang didn’t see the reasoning behind that, after all the walls were bare and her bag of clothes had only just been unpacked, but she didn’t mind the company. 

It was fortunate that they had to get up at the same time, because that meant that they would go to bed at the same time too. It was nice to sleep in the same bed, rather than share a loveseat. The bed was less likely to make them sore in the morning, that was for sure. Yang had slowly gotten used to Blake waking up before her, their first morning together an outlier. She would wake up to the smell of coffee, toast, and tea and would stumble down the stairs to find Blake having a light breakfast and scrolling idly on her phone. Every time Yang saw her she felt like it was the first time, the first time seeing that beautiful, amazing, phenomenal woman named Blake. And every time Blake would say, “Morning Yang,” Yang’s heart would stop and she had to catch her breath.

Yang had begun to notice how Blake reacted to her as well. Blake would smile more whenever Yang called her name. She always leaned into Yang's hand when Yang would stroke a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Sometimes she would plop her chin into Yang's palm when Yang wasn't paying attention, humming softly when Yang would reach up to cup her cheek.

They thrived on the little things, the tiny moments that spoke volumes of their love. Yang would be waiting for Blake with a cup of tea after a shower. Blake started to plant little kisses on Yang's forehead when she would get up in the morning and before they fell asleep. Yang would massage Blake's shoulders after practice, soothing her aching muscles and Blake was waiting with an ice pack for Yang after practice with Neo.

They were the talk of the team, replacing the usual idle gossip about the other teams in the league or people's weekend plans. The locker room was full of Nora teasing them about spending so much time together, which made Blake blush fiercely, and Penny would relentlessly question Yang about what it was like to be in love. Yang had to employ all her skill as a conversationalist to avoid either openly bragging or getting too sappy. Yang and Blake worried for a while what Winter would think, but the coach dismissed their fears by saying 'Just don't let it get in the way of your playing'.

And so, life went on.

As practice ended one evening and Blake talked excitedly about their movie night, Yang felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned, the goofy smile that Blake always caused still on her face, to find Weiss standing behind her. 

“Can we talk?” Weiss said. Yang looked over at Blake, who shrugged and carried on.

“I won’t start the movie without you!” she called back and Yang grinned.

“You better not!”

That made Blake laugh and she loaded herself into the elevator to head to the locker room and change. Yang turned back to Weiss, who was standing with her arms folded and her gaze over her proverbial glasses in a way that made Yang realize just how alike the two Schnee sisters were. “Hey Weiss. What’s up?”

“Blake,” Weiss said evenly, her gaze searching Yang for anything, any kind of reaction. Yang only smiled.

“What about Blake?”

“You’re dating her.”

“I mean, kinda? We haven’t really said that yet and we haven’t kissed or anything. I mean, we have, but not on the lips."

A disgusted expression passed over Weiss' face and she looked as though she might gag. "I don't need to know that."

Yang shrugged, unashamed, and continued, "We spend a lot of time together. So what?”

Weiss rolled her eyes and shifted her posture to give her muscles some relief. “That’s just it. She doesn’t do that.”

“Do what?” Yang asked, cocking her head to the side like she had seen Blake do so many times.

“Spend time with people.”

“What are you talking about? She was here all day.”

“She comes to practice,” Weiss said, folding her arms tighter, “but that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about spending time with people outside of that.” Yang raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue. “I’ve been on the team with her for years and she’s never been like this. She didn’t even talk to anyone outside of practice for a while, and when she did it was always formal.” Weiss looked away for a moment, as if searching the cold metal walls for answers, “She’s never acted the way she does with you.”

“Okay,” Yang said, leaning back. If this had a point, she would appreciate Weiss getting to it. Yang didn’t want to be late to practice with Neo again. 

Weiss sighed and her agitated demeanor dropped like a stone. “You’re good to her, good for her. Winter will tell you all this eventually, but in the arena she’s like she was before the big hit last season, before-”

“Cinder,” Yang growled. She hadn’t forgotten the name, had replayed watching the hit over and over in her mind. If only she had been there, she might have been able to stop it. All she could do was try to stop it from happening again. 

“Yes, Cinder. Blake has started to make rushes on the goal again, she’s even going in for tackles. Her shot/goal percentage isn’t as high as it used to be, but it’s much better than it was before you joined. She was close to being kicked off the team before she started playing like she used to. I think that’s all because of you.”

“What did I do? What changed?” Yang asked and Weiss frowned.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re protecting her. She hasn’t had someone this good to watch her back since we lost Pyrrha.”

“I’m just doing what I’m told,” Yang said defensively, “If Winter wants me to watch someone else-”

“Yes, you’re doing a fine job,” Weiss scoffed, rolling her eyes again, “Everyone feels safer with you in the arena. But we’re talking about Blake. If you’re going to protect her in the arena, you need to protect her outside the arena too.”

“What does that mean?”

“Blake...Something bad happened to her before she joined the Bumblebees.”

Yang had a feeling that was the case. It was written all over Blake’s face when Yang tried to ask about her past, what her life was like before she joined the team. So far all that Yang knew for certain was that Blake was from Menagerie, rarely talked with her parents, whom she referred to by their first names, and was friends with someone named Ilia Amitola. Other than that, Blake hadn’t offered up much. “Someone hurt her. What happened? Who did it?”

“I don’t know who. I’ve only heard rumors about what happened and besides, it isn’t my secret to tell,” Weiss replied, taking a step forward so that she and Yang were only a foot or two apart. It looked like she was squaring up for a fight from the way her shoulders tensed and she kept her weight low. “But if you do anything-and I mean  _ anything _ -to hurt her,”

“I won’t!”

“Listen to me!” Weiss snapped and Yang looked down at her, aghast. “If you hurt her, in any way, it will destroy her. I don’t know much about Blake, hell, we’ve only talked a handful of times over the years but I know that much. She trusts you. She loves you. Do not screw this up.”

Destroy was the word Weiss used, with all the surety of time itself. For a single, heartbreaking, moment, Yang’s mind was flooded with images of Blake collapsing, sobbing on the floor and it was because of...Yang. She would never recover if Yang hurt her. It was so clear now, so obvious that Yang meant more to her than just a passing friendship, just someone to lay with.

Yang meant just as much to Blake as Blake meant to Yang. “I-I didn’t-I won’t-”

“Don’t. I don’t care what you say. I want you to prove it,” Weiss hissed, “Prove to me that you won’t ever hurt her.”

“How?” Yang managed, her voice lodged in her throat.

“I don’t know,” Weiss admitted, backing down just a hair, “that’s up to you. But I want to see it with my own two eyes. Got that?” Yang swallowed hard and nodded vigorously. “Good.” And with that, Weiss walked away, leaving Yang to wallow in what had just happened.

“If you hurt her, in any way, it will destroy her.”

Weiss’ voice played on repeat in Yang’s mind. The blonde woman was in bed staring up at the ceiling, Blake snoring quietly next to her. Even that wasn’t enough to undo the knot of anxiety and worry that was boiling in Yang’s chest. She wouldn’t hurt Blake, she knew that, but it didn’t help the feeling. 

She shifted slightly, hugging Blake closer. They had lain there for hours. It was late. Or was it early? Yang couldn’t tell. She hadn’t slept much that night, or any night since her conversation with Weiss. The thought of what she had said kept rattling around, refusing to quiet down enough to allow her tired mind to rest. It reminded her of Ruby’s insomnia, though that was often cured with a quiet book and a warm mug of cocoa. When Yang asked her about it, Ruby always said, ‘I’m lucky. It could be worse,’ and shrugged. Looking down at Blake, Yang couldn’t help but wonder if she was just lucky to find her. 

But luck wouldn’t have anything to do with Yang’s refusal to hurt Blake. That was purposeful, a task to which she had set her whole body and mind. Every now and then the images of a sobbing Blake would reappear and Yang would have to fight to keep from hyperventilating. 

Blake was always there to help her, to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Her presence reminded Yang that Blake was happy right now. She was always smiling and laughing around Yang. The images of her tears were just that, images, with no basis in reality. Blake assumed that Yang’s panic attacks were a result of nerves from their upcoming first match and Yang couldn’t bring herself to tell her the truth. Not yet. 

Today was a Sunday, the Sunday before their match, and that meant that Neo had insisted on spending most of their training session coordinating how Yang was going to deal with the opposing Brawler, someone named Elm. When Yang walked up to the ring the floor was littered with pictures and articles about the team they were facing, the Atlas Artisans. Winter had told them that it would be a difficult match, the Artisans were all ten year professionals, but she had faith they would do well enough to avoid getting knocked out of the bracket completely. The whole Deathsticks bracket was point based and complicated, far too much so for Yang to bother trying to learn. She knew that Ruby was keeping up with it, she had told her as much the last time they talked, but all Yang needed to do was play the matches. Winter could handle all the details. 

Yang picked up a picture off the floor of the ring. It was a picture of a giantess, at least that was what she seemed like, bursting with muscle and grinning at the camera as if she didn’t notice her bloodied knuckles and split lip. 

“So, this is her, huh? Elm?” Yang asked and Neo nodded quickly, throwing another picture at Yang. This one showed just how big the woman was, towering over the rest of her team. Yang was tall, taller than most of her teammates, but if she had to guess this Elm woman was at least a foot and a half taller still.

“Elm Ederne,” Neo signed, gesturing for Yang to join her in the makeshift collage that had taken over the boxing ring, “She’s gonna be a tough first match.”

“How tough are we talking?” Yang asked, carefully climbing inside the ring so as to avoid messing up the photographs in their haphazard organization. 

“Fucking tough. I’d suggest avoiding her completely if punching her out wasn’t your job,” Neo passed Yang an article that read ‘Ederne Knocks Out Another Win for Artisans!’. It had an accompanying picture of Elm Ederne helping another giant of a woman out of the arena, still all smiles. The green haired woman she was helping, on the other hand, looked like she could barely stand, with one arm hanging limply by her side and blood running down her chin from her smashed nose. 

“Gods alive,” Yang muttered, quickly handing the article back to Neo, “how am I going to beat her?”

“Don’t get hit,” Neo replied, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Yeah, no shit, Neo.”

Neo held up a finger dangerously. “This woman has fists the size of your head and you want to be cheeky?”

“I-sorry.”

“Whatever. The only chance you have is to get the hell out of her way and catch her off guard.”

“How? She’ll know she has to take me out, how am I going to surprise her?”

“Her,” Neo said, handing Yang a photo of a new woman. This woman was much smaller, lithe like a runner, and sporting a mohawk with two white spikes at the front, “Harriet Bree.”

“What about her?”

Neo produced another photo, this one of both Elm and Harriet. Elm had one arm wrapped tightly around Harriet’s shoulders, though the latter woman looked like she would rather be anywhere else. “Focus her down, keep on her ass as much as you can. She’s fucking quick, but if you keep hounding her it might make Elm lose focus.”

Realization dawned and Yang could feel a clever smile spreading across her face, “She’ll be too preoccupied watching after Harriet to bother with me.”

“Exactly. Just make sure it doesn’t happen to you,” Neo signed before returning to the photographs. It took a few minutes of Yang signing and waving to get her attention.

“What do you mean, make sure it doesn’t happen to me?” she asked and Neo frowned, that same disdainful look on her face.

“Blake, obviously. If Elm even gets a whiff that you and Blake are sweet on each other you can bet your blonde ass that Blake will be a target.”

A target. That made it all come crashing down that this was the real deal, this was something where Blake could get seriously hurt. The team roughed each other up in practice matches, but that wasn’t the same as a real, primetime match of Deathsticks. Yang’s gaze hardened and for a moment her eyes flashed from lilac to red. “Elm won’t get close to her.”

“Make sure of it. Blake’s the best chance the Bumblebees have of advancing to the next stage of the league.”

“I will.”

“Glad to hear it. Repeat the plan back to me.”

“Focus on Harriet Bree,” Yang signed quickly, her motions steady and firm, “Get Elm Ederne to focus on protecting her so I can catch her off guard. Protect Blake. And, I mean, protect everyone else too.”

“Close enough,” Neo replied, the sigh evident in the looseness of her signing.

“Anything else before we spar?”

“Yeah. Do not, under any circumstances, get into a fistfight with Elm.”

“Then what have we been training for?” Yang asked, then gestured at the ring, “What’s the point of all this if I’m not getting into a fistfight this Saturday?”

Neo shrugged and began to collect her pictures. “You’ll get into plenty of fights over this season, trust me. Just don’t do it with Elm.”

“Why?”

“Yang,” Neo signed and caught Yang’s eyes, a blink shifting the colors in the trainer’s own, “You just barely got good enough to stand on your own two feet. Elm would break you in half.” The expression on Neo’s face brokered no argument. Yang nodded slowly and began to help Neo organize the photos. “We’ll get back to the planning later, but for now you need more training.”

As soon as the photographs were organized and set aside, the two women went at it again. Yang grimaced every time that she was thrown to the ground or Neo’s fist sliced the air a hair’s breadth from her face. She could only hope that their plan to deal with Elm Ederne would work. She would rather avoid winding up like that green haired woman in the paper.

Winter worked the team hard over the next week, pushing them to their limit. If Yang had thought that she was exhausted after practices the week before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Neo called off their daily training, which Yang was more than happy with as her legs barely cooperated after team practice. Her entire body felt like it just wanted to shut down and rest for a week at the end of each day. It was all she could do to keep from passing out in the cab rides back to the complex. If it hadn't been for Blake's quiet insistence, Yang would gladly have gone to bed immediately upon returning home. 

"Come on babe," Blake said, throwing an arm around Yang to support her, "you have to eat something." Yang couldn't help but smile when Blake called her 'babe'. It was another reminder that they were together, they were a couple. The very thought of it warmed Yang's body and kept the exhaustion at bay. She nodded slowly and, with Blake's help, made her way to the kitchen.

Blake had been cooking up a storm the week before, knowing how tired they were going to be this week. Between Yang looking like she was about to collapse at any moment and Blake being so sore she could barely lift her arms it was a necessary precaution. Yang watched as Blake busied herself around the kitchen, taking a pot of soup from the fridge and spooning up two bowls. After she placed them in the microwave to heat up she reached across the counter and pinched Yang lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey. You still awake?” she asked, leaning onto her elbows as she waited for a response. Yang groaned and nodded slowly, forcing her eyes open.

“Yep. I’m awake,” she said, then turned to look at the rotating bowls of soup in the microwave. “It’s not fair.”

“What?” Blake asked, her ears flattening onto her head ever so slightly, “What’s not fair?”

“That-that you had to cook so much. I could’ve helped,” Yang replied and was gratified to see that Blake immediately relaxed as any notion of argument vanished. Blake leaned forwards and tucked a strand of hair behind Yang’s ear, who nuzzled her cheek against her partner’s hand. 

“I appreciate that, babe, but you can’t cook,” Blake said. 

“I-I can do some things!” Yang protested halfheartedly, knowing that Blake was right, “I can...you know, chop vegetables.”

“Didn’t you need stitches the last time you did that?” Yang grimaced at the memory from when she was still in college and trying to be thrifty. She’d nearly taken off two fingers in her hurry to chop ingredients between classes. 

“Like a bunch of stitches,” Yang agreed as the microwave timer went off. Blake retrieved their soup, a thick, mouth watering broccoli cheddar, and grabbed a sleeve of crackers for them to share. “But I can learn. It’s not fair that you had to do all the work, especially after practice.”

Blake shrugged and crumbled some crackers into her soup. “I did most of it over the weekend, remember?” she said, trying to play off the huge amount of work she’d put into making sure they both had plenty to eat that week. 

“Yeah but-but I wanna help,” Yang said weakly, prepared to let the issue drop and focus on her soup. She looked up and met Blake’s eyes, a strange, innocent happiness residing there. She looked so amazed, so incredibly, deeply grateful that Yang was almost overwhelmed. 

“Okay,” Blake breathed out, a shy smile appearing on her lips, “I’ll teach you.” Yang let out a tired cheer and went back to her soup. They ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, both too tired to hold much of a conversation. After dinner they cleaned up, Yang trying her best to do the lion’s share of the work until a bowl slipped out of her sluggish fingers and shattered on the floor. “All right you,” Blake said, trying to hide her laughter behind a fake scowl, “Bedtime for Yang.”

“No,” Yang whined but let Blake lead her to bed and tuck her into the covers. She placed a light kiss on Yang’s forehead and Yang smiled, reaching up to stroke Blake’s cheek. 

“Thangz fo-fo din’er,” Yang managed before her hand slumped back to the bed and her eyelids began to fall shut. Blake smiled down at her, her eyes glowing in the soft moonlight. Her expression was difficult for Yang to decipher in her tired state of mind, but she could see a well of love and care in her partner’s soft smile, her kind eyes, the small blush on her cheeks, even the way she wrinkled her nose as Yang’s touch tickled her neck. She leaned down and kissed Yang on the forehead again, then whispered in her ear,

“Night Yang,” and Yang could feel her smile as she said it. Blake stood up from the bed and made her way to the door, looking back again to gaze lovingly at Yang.

“Ni’...Blake,” Yang whispered and then sleep swept her away completely. Even her dreams were full of Blake, the sound of her laugh, a flash of golden amber in the kaleidoscope sky of her mind’s eye. These dreams were peaceful, full of all the comfort and safety that Yang had come to know with Blake. They were the kind of dreams that held you softly and sung you through the night, the kind of dreams you can’t quite remember but you wake up feeling refreshed and ready. Yang curled up and slept heavily, content.

“Faster, faster! Screeners, move! Polendina, get in line! Belladonna, you’re on the rush this time, Xiao Long, stay on her! Valkyrie, get back in the fucking goal!”

Winter was infuriated. She had been high strung all week, her already tight shoulders riding higher and her clipboard gripped so tightly it looked like it might break. That morning had started off as well as it could with the match in three days, with no small amount of yelling and cursing from Winter and an equal amount from Weiss. Anything that Winter didn’t see, which was admittedly not much, Weiss did and the Schnee sisters made sure everyone heard about it. It was tense, but manageable until the team came back a minute late from their lunch break. That had been the last straw. Now Winter was bellowing every command and reading the riot act to anyone who stepped out of line. She was even using their last names, which Blake had said meant she was especially pissed off. Winter was in the arena today, acting as both referee and coach, and organized a new ball drop in light of Blake’s recent goal. That put her and Yang’s team at a two point lead. Weiss, leading the opposing team, was trying her best not to throw a fit about it. 

The team started off as they always did when the ball dropped: each side sent forwards a Screener, a Striker, and a Brawler to pair up in a triangle around the ref, who would drop the ball. The six players would then fight for possession of the ball, usually trying to open up a pass to their Striker. The six this time were Blake, Yang, and a Screener named Mauve, against Weiss, Penny, and the unfortunate Schill, who had to stand in for the opposing Brawler. Schill was big, her rabbit ears making her taller than Yang and nearly as broad as the Brawler, but she was a Screener by trade. She didn’t have Yang’s specialized training. Brawlers were always paired off with opposing Strikers, to make it more difficult for them to get the ball, and Screeners were their own pair. 

Penny shot Yang a smile, which Yang returned. It was a quick exchange of pleasantries, no more than the span of a moment, but it was enough to earn them an outraged ‘Focus, dammit!’ from Winter. Yang shrugged and turned her gaze back to the ball, still held above the arena in Winter’s hand. She could hear Penny trying not to burst into laughter and as Winter was currently grinding her teeth into oblivion, she did too. 

Without another word, the coach dropped the ball into the arena and got the hell away. On average, the rush that followed a ball drop in Deathsticks was slightly less deadly than a car crash. 

Slightly.

Yang immediately shoved Penny aside and then snaked out her deathstick, smacking aside Weiss’ attempt to gain possession. That was all the opening that Blake needed to steal the ball away, darting out of the center and bolting down the arena for the goal. Yang pushed off after her, bowling Schill over without any trouble, and was hot on Blake’s tail, watching for anyone who might try to stop her progress.

There was an attempt as soon as Blake got away from the center as one of the opposing Screeners shrieked and barreled towards her with wild abandon. Yang didn’t bother to intercept this Screener, she knew this attack well from the weeks of practice. The real threat wasn’t the first screener it was always-there!

A second Screener snuck out of formation and skated as hard as they could for Blake, from the Striker’s blind side. They smiled triumphantly when they were less than a foot from slamming into Blake and sending her tumbling when suddenly they were in the air, spinning down the arena like a top. Yang shot their wheeling teammate a cheeky grin as they readjusted from the hit and settled in to guard Blake the rest of the way.

The rest of their Screeners, led heroically by Mauve, held off any more attacks. Yang looked around quickly, double checking behind the pair. Weiss had broken through the offensive rush and was skating after them, an uncharacteristic snarl playing at her lips, but she was too far away to be a threat. Barring any other sneaky attacks, the way to the goal was clear. All that mattered now was Blake slamming the ball past Nora and into the goal. It was no easy feat, Nora had been blocking shots in Deathsticks since she was a child, but Blake had gotten two in already. Yang nodded happily as she assured herself that they were about to have another point under thei-

Oh gods, Nora was coming after them personally. 

The Goaltender yelled a battle cry and charged at Blake, her limited skating skills more than enough to close the distance. If Blake took that hit she was likely to get bruises all up and down her body. Nora wasn’t trained in tackling like the rest of the team, so she improvised by slamming her entire body into whoever was unfortunate enough to get in her way, weight distribution be damned. 

There was nothing for it. “Blake, switch!” Yang yelled and Blake shouted back,

“On it!” before darting to the side and slowing up just a hair. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to let Yang soar by and take her place in Nora’s path. If this sudden change in targets surprised the Goaltender, she didn’t show it, and carried on full force. Yang fancied that might have been because stopping had never been Nora’s forte. 

The hit was tremendous. Nothing that Yang could have done would have stopped her from getting knocked over by Nora’s attack, but that wasn’t what she was trying to do. Sometimes, as she’d learned, you had to go down so your team could move up. 

Still, Yang twisted her body at the last second, taking Nora’s force and redirecting it, which sent most of the Goaltender’s weight off to the side instead of full on. Nora shrieked and tumbled over herself, rolling head over heels across the arena. Yang didn’t fare much better, getting clotheslined by the hit and slamming hard onto her back. If it wasn’t for the pads in her helmet, she might well have split her skull open from the impact. As it was, she could already tell she’d have a ringing headache that night. Yang had started keeping stocked up on pain relievers for a reason. 

She managed to look up just in time to watch Blake slap the ball into the goal. A buzzer went off and, even though Blake’s ears flattened to her head, she cheered and held up her deathstick in victory. 

“Nora!” Weiss screeched, coming to a halt next to her teammate, “What the fuck were you doing? Winter told you to keep your ass in the goal!”

Yang watched for a moment as Nora smiled up at Weiss in the disarmingly apologetic way that she had. It didn’t work on Weiss who proceeded to drag Nora to her feet for the sole purpose of yelling at her face to face. 

“Need a hand?” Blake asked, and Yang rolled back over. Blake was standing above her, hand extended, the smile of victory still on her face. 

“Always,” Yang said and accepted the aid, rising to her feet, “Thanks babe.”

Blake tutted softly and leaned her head against Yang’s shoulder, “Winter doesn’t want us to use that in the arena.”

“Oh, yeah, something about giving secrets to the enemy, wasn’t it?” Yang said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. Had they been at home, she would have done her best Winter impression, but she didn’t want to deal with that kind of firestorm in the arena. 

“Yeah, something like that. Thanks for taking the hit for me,” Blake said, linking her arm with Yang’s.

“Any time,” Yang replied and leaned down to give her a soft kiss on the top of her helmet. Blake smiled and then they both turned to watch as Weiss was joined by Winter in berating Nora. All of it bounced off the Goaltender like a frog off a hot driveway. 

By the end of practice Winter just looked defeated. She got out of the arena, shoulders sagging and expression crestfallen. “You. All of you,” she snapped, whirling around to glare at her team, “hopeless. Get out of my arena. I don’t want to see you again until Saturday.” Yang furrowed her brow as she heard that, but did as requested. It seemed a bit harsh, she thought they had done rather well. The rest of the team exited sullenly, none of the usual happy banter or camaraderie that Yang had come to expect from the end of practice. She followed Blake to the elevator, where they squeezed in with Nora, Penny, Weiss, and a few others. The team always had to head down in groups. 

“So, uh,” Yang asked, scratching the back of her head, “did she mean that? When she said we were hopeless?”

“No, we’re fine,” Blake said reassuringly. She might have reached out to wrap an arm around Yang’s waist, but the elevator was too tightly packed. Weiss rolled her eyes so heavily that Yang could almost hear it.

“Winter always does that. It’s her way of giving us two days off without seeming too sappy,” Weiss said and suddenly the elevator was full of sage nods and murmurs of agreement. Nora’s face exploded into an ecstatic grin as she looked around the elevator.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going home to get in some...practice with Ren.”

Everyone in the elevator groaned and looked away from their teammate, except for Penny who looked nonplussed. “Nora,” Weiss said, “You’re disgusting. We don’t need to hear about that every time it happens.”

“Disgustingly cute!” Nora shouted defensively, the sound echoing off the metal of the elevator and forcing Blake to flatten her ears to her head and the rabbit Faunus Schill cringed before shooting a glare at Nora. The Goaltender smiled sheepishly and muttered a quick apology. 

“Really? Every time?” Yang asked. Nora looked over at her and winked.

“Well, not every time.”

Again the elevator was full of groans and when they reached the locker room the doors couldn’t open fast enough. Weiss looked like she wanted to clamber over her teammates to leave as quickly as possible. As Blake and Yang exited, Yang looked back to see Nora blushing fiercely as she tried to explain what kind of ‘practice’ she was talking about and why, no, Penny couldn't join.

“Nora’s not much for subtlety, is she?” Yang muttered to Blake as they walked into the locker room.

“No, she’s very direct. I appreciate that about her,” Blake replied before slipping off her pads and jersey. Yang had to look away and focus on her own pads to keep from staring too long, but it seemed that Blake had noticed regardless. “Hey, uh, Yang?” she asked, leaning towards her partner close enough to not be overheard, “You don't expect any kind of...practice...once we get home, do you?”

“What?” Yang asked, looking down at Blake, confused, “No, of course not.”

“Okay, good,” Blake said, letting out a heavy breath. “Good. So, uh, what do you want to do?”

Yang studied the wonderful woman next to her for a moment, wondering again just who would dare to hurt her so deeply. After a long moment, she smiled and reached out to squeeze Blake’s hand. “Whatever you want to do.”

Blake squeezed her hand back and smiled, looking close to tears. “Dinner and a movie. Just us.”

Yang wrapped an arm around her, trying to translate the love she felt into her movements. “Of course.”

It seemed to work, as Blake leaned in and reached around Yang's hips, tugging the pair closer together. “A horror movie.”

“Okay.”

“A good one.”

“The best.”

“Oh, babe,” Blake said, some of the confidence of number 27, Blake Belladonna, sneaking into her gaze, “You’re not ready for the best horror movies I own.”

“Oh yeah?” Yang asked, giving Blake a cocky smile, “Try me.” Blake shrugged and returned to getting changed.

“Okay, but you asked for it.”

It would turn out that Yang was not, in fact, ready for the best horror movies that Blake had on offer. The one they watched, a slasher from twenty years ago, left her shaken and curled up against Blake, bundled in blankets for security. 

“Hey,” Blake asked, giving Yang a hug, “Are you okay?”

“Was that the best one you have?” Yang replied, looking up at Blake. Blake smiled bashfully for a moment and shrugged.

“That’s the best standard one I have.”

Yang leaned back a bit to better look Blake in the eyes. “What do you mean ‘standard one’?”

“I mean,” Blake said, stroking her chin with one hand while she thought, “I mean that’s the best one that’s just: there’s a monster! Boo! But I’ve got some other ones that are more...fuckey.”

“Like there’s fucking in them?” Yang asked, furrowing her brow and Blake laughed, shaking her head.

“No, I mean they fuck with your head. Like multiple timelines and stuff. They’re really good! We should have a movie night for one of those, I haven’t watched them in a while.”

“Why not?” Yang asked, before angling up to plant a kiss on Blake’s cheek. She smiled, and hugged Yang tighter.

“I just haven’t. Haven’t been in the mood for them.” Blake looked away as she said it, and even through the blankets Yang could feel her body tense up. “Uh, so do you want to watch another one? A bad one?”

Yang nuzzled closer, placing her head on Blake’s shoulder. “I think I’m good on watching horror movies, for now.”

“Okay. So what do you want to do?” Blake asked. Yang could have sworn that she was getting ready to run, her muscles were so tight.

“Just to be here. With you, you know? Just us,” Yang said, carefully watching Blake’s expression for any hint as to her reaction. “I mean, if you want to. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.”

The tension ran out of Blake’s body like water out a sieve. “Yeah,” she said, shifting her weight to get comfortable, “I want to do that too.” It was good that they had so many blankets, as the pair soon drifted off to sleep. Yang had expected to get nightmares from the movie, but being with Blake kept such things far from her mind. Instead, her dreams were all comfort and safety, the smell of old books and chamomile tea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neo is by far my favorite person to write in this fic.   
> Comments are always appreciated!  
> Hope you enjoy the story!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first deathsticks match of the season is finally here! Yang faces a difficult opponent, but with Blake by her side there's nothing they can't do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sports related violence and alcohol in this chapter, so if that's not your bag steer clear.

The team took an airship to Atlas for the match, which meant that they had to be up at the crack of dawn on Saturday to get there in time. A bus picked them up at the gates of the complex and from there to the airfield where they all loaded onto the airship. Their gear was already stowed, apparently Klein’s work over their two day break, which meant that all the team had to do was show up to the bus on time. 

Yang had to be all but carried to the airship, and immediately fell back asleep as soon as she settled into her seat next to Blake. It was really just an extension of their time in bed, curled against one another and tangling their limbs together, clasping hands and settling heads in the crooks of the other’s neck. Deep in the airship Yang could hear the whispers of their teammates as they saw the display of affection but she paid them no mind. She knew that she would have a better flight than any of them.

It had been a few years since Yang’s last trip on an airship, which had been a field trip to the Emerald Forest during her sophomore year at Beacon. The trip had been fantastic, due in no small part to their professor’s habit of letting the class do just about whatever they liked. Their real goal had been to collect samples of the local flora and fauna but most of the students had wandered off and become too busy talking or smoking to really care. The ride out had been difficult for Yang, she much preferred to have her feet on the ground, but a soft buzz in the back of her mind helped the ride back. That couldn’t compare to what it felt like next to Blake. 

If Yang had been more awake she might have reflected on what an absolutely incredible feat it was to keep her calm while the airship rumbled and pitched its way to cruising altitude. She might have realized that Blake mumbled Yang’s name while she dreamt, and smiled sleepily every time. She might have noticed Penny and Nora starting a game of poker in the back and betting the only thing the team knew for sure they’d have that night: rounds at the bar. She would definitely have avoided being startled awake by a sharp shake on her shoulder, snapping her out of a pleasant dream of what it might have been like if she and Blake had gone to school together. They were studying to be monster hunters, of all things.

“Yang,” Winter said curtly, looking to all the world like an empress addressing a peasant, “we need to talk strategy.”

Yang looked over at Blake, who had an arm across her shoulders and whose head was resting on her chest, rising and falling with Yang’s breath. She considered asking Winter if this could wait, at least long enough to get Blake up slowly, but as she looked back the idea wilted in her mind. Winter’s expression was cold and calculated, her jaw set and her gaze steady. Yang could almost hear the gears turning in her head. “Uh, sure coach. I’ll be right up.” 

Winter nodded and walked back to the front of the airship. The coach had claimed an entire section of seats for herself, only allowing Klein to sit in her conquered territory. Yang grabbed Blake’s shoulder and jostled her gently. Blake’s eyes fluttered open and she grinned dopily as she saw Yang.

“Mornin’ babe,” she said and began to settle her head back down into Yang’s chest when Yang said,

“I have to go talk strategy with Winter, hon. I’ll be back soon though.” That made Blake frown, and she slowly pushed herself off of Yang. She arched her back and yawned, smacking her lips as she settled into her chair. Yang made to get up, but Blake stroked a finger under her chin and suddenly the only thing in the world that even existed was Blake. “What’s up, baby?”

Blake sat up straighter and planted a soft kiss on Yang’s forehead. “Winter can wait for a bit.” Yang smiled gratefully at the thought and leaned down to kiss Blake’s cheek while Blake continued to kiss her forehead. They might have continued like that for hours had there not been a shout of ‘Xiao Long!’ from the front of the airship. Yang could feel the smile in the corner of Blake’s jaw. “I guess she can’t wait that long.”

Yang smirked and stood, but not before one more kiss on Blake’s cheek. “Be back soon.” Blake nodded and began to settle into her seat while Yang made her way to the front. 

The section of seats that Winter had claimed were spotless, without even the indent of someone foolish enough to try and take one of the seats for themselves. Winter was seated next to the window, and a stack of papers took up the seat next to her, all neatly organized and marked by strips of colored tape. The section of papers on the top of the pile was labeled, ‘Atlas Artisans’ and right on top was a paper concerning Elm Ederne. “Sit down, Yang,” Winter said, indicating the empty seat across the aisle from her. Yang took and waited expectantly. “I assume you and Neo went over a strategy for dealing with Elm.”

Yang nodded. There was a long silence after that and it wasn’t until Winter looked at Yang out of the corner of her eye that Yang realized she was supposed to be explaining. “We decided that I’m going to focus on Harriet Bree. Neo’s theory is that going after Harriet will make Elm lose focus on me enough to catch her off guard. She’ll be too busy watching Harriet’s back to come after me directly. I also have to keep Blake safe, since she’s our best Striker, but not make it too obvious that she’s so important to the team winning, so I’ll spread out my defense a bit. She also said that getting into a fight with Elm would be a bad idea.”

Winter chewed the information over for a moment, conferring with the section of papers concerning the Artisans. “It might work. It might not. Harriet Bree is fast, possibly the fastest Striker ever and certainly faster than you. How are you planning to take her out?”

“I’m not,” Yang said and Winter raised one eyebrow so sharply she could've diced an onion with it. “I mean, that would be nice, but that’s not the goal. The goal is to keep Elm busy so I can deal with her.”

“And how exactly do you plan to deal with Elm? You do realize that she has at least a foot on you and about a hundred pounds more mass to throw around. She's also remarkably clever. You'll have one chance before she figures out the plan.” 

Yang grimaced at the estimation of Elm’s size. She had known that Elm was bigger than her, but she hadn’t realized how much difference it might make. From Winter’s cutting tone, it sounded like it made all the difference in the world. “I haven’t figured that one out yet,” she admitted and Winter furrowed her brow dismissively, “If the plan works, I’ll be able to get her so far off guard that I can take her out in one hit, but I don’t know. I saw that picture where she was helping some green haired Brawler out of the arena. I’m just hoping I don’t end up like her.”

Winter leaned back pensively, lifting her pen up and chewing on the end lightly. “I remember that match. Johanna Greenleaf of the Happy Huntresses. Elm broke her arm, nose, and three of her ribs.”

“Gods alive.”

“But you’ve already said you don’t plan on getting into a fight with Elm-that was Johanna’s mistake,” Winter said. The softness in which she said the name ‘Johanna’ implied a strange fondness that Yang had never heard the coach use before, not even for her own sister. The idea that Winter could be fond of anyone was so alien that it took Yang a moment to recover her faculties and keep listening. “...can distract her, which will be difficult enough on its own, the very idea of tackling her alone is laughable at best.”

“Wow. Thanks, coach,” Yang muttered to herself, but as she suspected little got past Winter.

“Yang, more experienced Brawlers than you have tried. Even Pyrrha tried to tackle Elm alone.”

“What happened?”

“She bounced off and Elm laughed at her. It’s the only time I ever saw Pyrrha look embarrassed.” Winter said, then paused to look out the window. Yang watched her for any kind of indication as to what was going on in her head, but as always she remained monolithic in her complexity. “You have a difficult first match, Yang. I won’t blame you if you can’t defeat Elm.”

“So, you won’t fire me?” Yang asked, the suddenly very real and present anxiety about her first match beginning to abate slightly. Winter turned back to her and fixed her with a stare that sent chills down Yang’s spine. It was like the first day with Neo, feeling like prey, except this time there was the distinct addition of being particularly helpless. At least with Neo, Yang could just leave the ring. With Winter, there was no escape.

“You’re the only Brawler who's given me a shred of hope in the past few years. The only way you’re getting off this team is in a body bag.” If it had been anyone else, Yang would have laughed that off and moved on with her life. Winter gave off the impression that she could very easily put Yang in a body bag if she liked. 

“I’ll, I’ll bear that in mind,” Yang stammered and Winter nodded in such a way that Yang knew their meeting was over. She stood and made her way back to her seat, collapsing back into it and finding Blake’s arms around her before she had even settled in. “Hi.”

“Did Winter threaten to kill you?” Blake asked, leaning her head on Yang’s shoulder. Yang nodded quickly which made Blake let out a long sigh. “She does that. You get used to it.”

With the exception of Blake being brought up for her own strategy meeting, which mostly consisted of Winter telling Blake to stay as close to Yang as physically possible, the rest of their flight passed uneventfully. Yang tucked her arms around Blake and the pair of them made up for all the cuddling time they had lost to the early start to their morning.

When the airship first crested the mountains and revealed Atlas, Yang’s mouth dropped open. It was a city, a floating city, suspended thousands of feet in the air by some unknown mechanism and only kept in place by a handful of tethers. The city below it, featuring a crater that once held the airborne section, was choked with smog and dirt but the city above was resplendent. Tall, glittering towers of white and crystal caught the sun and refracted the light into a thousand beautiful rainbows. Flying cars floated to and from highrises, personal transportation of the upper crust in Solitas. Gigantic airships patrolled the sky, dominating the cityscape. It looked like something out of one of the sci-fi novels that Yang read as a kid. Right in the middle was Atlas Academy, the finest school in Remnant according to people who went to Atlas Academy. The huge dome in the center, in between the enormous, sleek science lab and a dorm that looked like a mansion in and of itself, was their arena tonight. 

As the airship landed and everyone gathered their things, Winter snapped her fingers twice, getting everyone’s attention. “Listen up, everyone. We’re just moving from here to the bus. Don’t speak, don’t look around, don’t even breathe until we’re on that bus. Understand?” Yang looked over at Blake nervously, who was practicing looking at the floor. When she finally looked up and caught Yang’s eye, she smiled reassuringly.

“It’s just the press. They’re loud, but not much else. Just do what Winter said.”

Yang nodded slowly and filed into line with the team when it was her turn. No one had warned her about the press. 

As she exited the airship she was struck by a wave of sound, a thousand thousand flashing lights, and a hundred different microphones being shoved in her face. Yang’s eyes went wide and her feet rooted to the ground for a moment until she felt Blake’s comforting hand on her back. Right. Just keep moving forward. Yang focused on the shoes of the player in front of her and marched straight onto the bus, ignoring the concerningly large amount of reporters who seemed to know her by name.

“Yang! Yang Xiao Long!”

“Miss Xiao Long, how do you like being on the Bumblebees?”

“Yang, how has your training been?”

“Did you really not play any Deathsticks before joining the Bumblebees?”

“Do you have any thoughts about your competition, Elm Ederne?”

Eventually Yang made it onto the bus and the sound faded as she raced to the very back. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and the reporters as she could. Blake was hot on her heels, that comforting hand still on Yang’s back. She slumped down into a seat and it took her a moment to realize that she was seated next to Penny.

“Oh. Hey, Penny.”

“Hello Yang. Did you notice that almost all the questions were about you?” Penny asked in her eternal cheerfulness. There had been a few questions for the rest of the team, notably Blake had gotten quite a few, but the vast majority were for Yang. “Apparently being a rookie on a professional team has made you quite a celebrity!”

“I’d rather not be one of those, thanks,” Yang said. She didn’t want to have that kind of life, hounded by paparazzi with their cameras and the endless barrage of questions. She much preferred the idea of never having to face a camera again after that little excursion outside. “Is that why the complex has a gate around it?” 

Penny nodded vigorously. “It didn’t used to, but then Winter got into a legal battle with some of the reporters. She figured it was a good investment.” Yang shuddered at the thought of what must have happened to cause that kind of row. 

But there was no more time to consider the past. Right now, as the bus took off, Winter was standing at the front going over the team’s various offensive and defensive strategies. It all became a blur to Yang as she tried to listen, but the thought of Elm Ederne and her, as Neo had put it, head sized fists kept popping up instead. Yang could only imagine what kind of fight the two Brawlers would have. No matter how many times she ran it over in her head it always ended the same way: Yang would land a few hits, some body blows, maybe a few to Elm’s jaw, and then the giantess woud club Yang once over the head and that would be the end of it.

There had to be a way to get around her, take her down without getting hospitalized. Even if she was distracted taking care of Harriet Bree, Yang just didn’t have the strength or the experience to put her down. If the unbeatable Pyrrha Nikos couldn’t do it, what luck did some podunk nobody have at defeating someone like Elm Ederne? This was ridiculous. She might as well climb into a body bag right now. 

“Hey,” Yang’s eyes snapped over to see Blake putting a hand lightly on her arm, “Are you okay?” Yang let out a sigh and reached up to clasp Blake’s hand with her own. 

“Not really. I’m worried about the match...about Elm,” she admitted, a sinking feeling settling around her like she was about to slip through the seat of the bus. Blake nodded knowingly and gave Yang’s arm a squeeze. Even that little contact was like a balm on Yang’s soul, her worry fading ever so slightly.

“You’ll be fine, babe. I won’t let her hurt you,” Blake said and Yang laughed as much as she was able, the knot in her stomach loosening just a hair.

“Isn’t that my job?” she asked and Blake’s lips twitched into a smile. She squeezed Yang’s arm again, and the worry abated even further.

“So we’ll look out for each other. How’s that for a compromise?”

Yang couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Protecting each other, huh? I like the sound of that.” Blake slung an arm around Yang’s shoulders and leaned into her, settling in as they drove the rest of the way to the arena.

Everything up to the point of entering the Atlas Academy Deathsticks Arena was just like every other practice. Everyone got ready together, ribbing one another as they did so. Nora would crack jokes, Penny rushed around helping everyone, Weiss coldly studied her sheet of Deathsticks formations, and Blake was nose deep in her personal Deathsticks rulebook. Yang had already gotten all her equipment on and was waiting for whatever signal would be given for everyone to assemble in the arena. She was listening to music off her phone, some folky guitar that her dad always played when she and Ruby were little, hoping that it would calm her jittering nerves. So far, it wasn’t working. 

Yang briefly considered going over to Blake again, but she had already done all she could. Besides, she was busy with her own pregame ritual and Yang didn’t want to break up tradition. Whatever was happening with Yang’s nerves would pass after the first game, at least, that was what she kept telling herself. It was so hard to see the future when the present was staring you dead in the eye with intent to kill. 

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she looked up to find Weiss suddenly standing above her, gesturing for her to remove her headphones. 

“Oh, hey Weiss. What’s up?” she asked, popping one out, the soft strains of  _ Beowulf Stole My Heart _ playing through the other. 

“What are you listening to?” Weiss asked, pointing at the phone Yang clutched tight.

“Oh, uh, just some folk stuff,” Yang said, about to explain more when Weiss shook her head in exasperation.

“That’s not good enough.”

“What? I love this kind of music, I’ve been listening to it since I was like...since I knew what sound was,” Yang said, clutching her phone to her chest and trying her best not to glare at Weiss. Her teammate sat down daintily next to her and held up her own phone, indicating the audio jack.

“It’s not going to hype you up for the match. You need something better,” she said, reaching over to rip the headphones away. 

“I’m not trying to get hyped up for the match, I’m trying to calm the hell down,” Yang started to lean away from Weiss, the two reaching almost comical angles before Weiss finally let out a sigh and said,

“Just trust me, all right?”

Yang was loath to give up control of her music for even a moment, especially after her last conversation with Weiss. She pushed Weiss’ hand away and scooted further down the bench, but Weiss persisted.

“Just-just-dammit, Yang, just try it,” Weiss hissed. Yang studied Weiss’ expression for a long moment, the woman’s brow knit in frustration and her lips almost in a pout, her jaw set angrily, but her eyes seemed earnest. After another minute of battling for control of the headphones, Yang relented and pulled the end out of her phone, passing it to Weiss.

“Fine, but don’t play and classical orchestra shit. That’s the last thing I need,” Yang muttered, which only earned a scoff from Weiss. The white haired woman plugged the headphones into her phone and scrolled for a moment. She considered whatever was on her screen, keeping the choices secret from Yang, then scrolled a bit more before nodding in satisfaction and choosing something.

Immediately Yang noticed the guitar. It was much harder than anything she would usually listen to, all heavy strokes and electric riffs. The drums were slamming in the background, adding a solid, ear shattering beat.

Then someone screamed. 

Yang’s eyes went wide and she stared at Weiss, trying to keep her mouth from falling open in shock. Weiss was sitting there with her arms folded, a smug smile on her face as she watched Yang react to her choice in music.

The song moved on, more screams but this time in time with the beat. Against all odds, the mishmash of screams, singing, guitar, and drums was actually forming a song. 

Yang popped out an earphone again, almost unable to form words for a moment. “What is this?”

“This one?” Weiss asked without even needing to double check, “ _ Lips of the Dead _ by Arslan’s Atrocities. Do you like it?”

“I don’t really know, I’ve never listened to...what kind of music is this?” Yang asked as the song returned to its chorus, which was really just four people screeching the title of the song while it sounded like the guitarist was smashing their instrument against the ground.

“You’ve never listened to metal before? Really?” Weiss asked, her voice dripping with contempt. “You seemed like the type who would, what with the whole rough and tumble bartender thing you have going on.” Yang flushed red and looked away, preferring to study the cover of Blake’s book than anything else at the moment. “Well, whatever,” Weiss said, ripping out the headphone cord and cutting the music, “I guess not everyone can appreciate art.”

Yang jammed the cord back into her own phone, preferring the soothing sounds of country folk to whatever Weiss had just played. She could already tell that the song would be stuck in her head for at least the rest of the night. She grumbled into her hand as the minutes slipped by. The last thing she needed was screaming voices in her head while she tried to fall asleep. 

There was the blast of a whistle and everyone stopped what they were doing, looking towards the source of the sound. In the doorway of the locker room stood a man not much older than Yang, with head of spikey blonde hair and a monkey tail clutching a rulebook. He was covered in black and white checkered clothes and had a helmet tucked under his arm. “Evening everyone!” he yelled, then he turned and winked at Weiss, “Evening snow angel.” Weiss glared daggers back at him. “I’m Sun Wukong for those who don’t know and I’ll be the ref for tonight’s match. I expect a good, clean, game of Deathsticks out there tonight, so no sticks to the head, no tripping, and no kicking. I’ve got a handful of red cards to kick you out of the arena, and I’d rather not have to use them. Now get lined up, you’re on in two!” 

The ref turned to leave and suddenly the team burst into action. Personal effects were stuffed into bags and gear was double checked. Everyone strapped on their helmets and got into line by position, Goaltender first, then Strikers, then Screeners, and finally, Yang. By the time they were all organized, Winter had taken the ref’s place. Winter’s eyes were wide, snapping from person to person, face to face. Her expression reminded Yang of a feral dog more than anything else.

“Listen up! I want you to ignore everything that Mr. Wukong just said. I don’t care how you do it, just win. Got that?” 

There was a chorus of “Yes coach!” and then down the hall and out the door they went. Eventually they were organized in front of a pair of huge double doors that led to a lane of skating tiles so the players could make their grand entrance. Lined up next to them were the Atlas Artisans in silver and gray jerseys that made the Bumblebees black and yellow only stand out more. 

“Number seventy-two, huh? So you’re the Yang Xiao Long I’ve heard so much about!” came a thundering voice and Yang looked to her right to see Elm Ederne. Or at least she looked over to see her chest. The slow look up to meet her eyes revealed that Elm was even bigger than Yang had estimated, a good two feet or so taller and substantially broader. “Pleasure to meet you! I’m Elm!” the giantess said, extending a hand. This time Yang braced her hand for impact, having learned well with her own teammates, but to no avail as the feeling ran out of her hand entirely in the short time it took to shake. She tried her best not to wince, supposing that it was hard to avoid having your hand crushed when the opposing hand envelopes yours completely. Head sized fists indeed.

“Hi,” Yang grunted as the handshake ended, “Pleasure to meet you too.” She tried to rub some feeling back into her hand, without much luck.

“It’s your first season, isn’t it?” Elm asked, looking down with that broad smile that was all over the photographs. It seemed that the smile wasn’t, as Yang had initially assumed, a caricature. Elm really was that friendly. 

“Yep, first game too,” Yang said, slipping into the same kind of confident voice that she had perfected at the bar. It wasn’t much, but she knew that showing how she really felt, small and terrified, would only leave her vulnerable in the arena. Right now she needed as much confidence as possible, no matter how fake it might be. “So, you been playing long?”

Elm nodded happily. “Sixteenth season this year.” That sent a shiver down Yang’s spine, worse than any estimation of Elm’s size or how dangerous she was in a fight. Deathsticks players averaged around seven seasons before the concussions got to be too much. Elm was either just that tough or just that crazy. Probably a bit of both, Yang mused as she looked the opposing Brawler up and down.

The announcers of every Deathsticks game, Port and Oobleck, echoed around the arena to the waiting players. “Hello!” Oobleck cried in his breathy, overly caffeinated manner, “and welcome to the first Deathsticks game of the season!” There was a deafening roar of the crowd and the ground beneath Yang’s feet started to shake. “Today, we have an exciting match with lots of returning players and some new faces as well!”

“Indeed we do, old friend, indeed we do!” That was Port with his deep, booming voice reverberating around the entire arena. If Yang had actually cared for the sport before joining the team, this might have been surreal. “Now, put your hands together for the away team...the Beacon Bumblebees!” He drew out the last syllable as long as his breath would allow and two arena attendants swung the doors open. Immediately the Bumblebees started skating forwards in an organized line, emerging one at a time into the arena to raucous applause.

Oobleck, fast talker that he was, named every player as they entered the arena and started skating around to stretch out their limbs and show off a bit. The crowd was polite, cheering and screaming for each one of them in turn. Yang noticed an especially loud response when Blake’s name was called and she craned her head to see that beautiful amber eyed woman fly into the center of the ring and take a dramatic bow. Blake might have been shy and awkward in private, but she knew how to put on a show. The rest of the team filed out, waving and pumping their fists in the air.

And then Yang’s name was called, and there were only scattered applause. She skated out into the arena and took a look around, almost freezing up in that moment.

The stands were packed. The Atlas Academy Arena couldn’t hold quite as many people as the Aerodome, but every one of the seats was filled and Yang counted no less than two dozen cameras in her quick look around. It finally hit for the first time. This was a live game, broadcasted to millions. Yang could imagine Ruby and Tai, work forgotten, crowding around the tv in the Burning Rose with all their patrons to see how she did. So she plastered on her favorite customer service smile and started to wave.

The crowd loved it. Suddenly there were shouts and cheers as Port bellowed, “Ooh, it looks like our newest player has some fire after all!” Yang finished her waving and committed to her warmups, remembering all of Blake and Neo’s lessons as best she could. 

The Artisans came filing out next, player by player, and the crowd went wild. It was clear who they were really here to see. Yang kept peeking glimpses of the opposing team as they entered the arena, some waving, some spinning on their skates, some blowing kisses to the stands. 

“And now, number 85, Striker Harriet Bree!” Oobleck called out, magnetizing Yang’s gaze on the entrance to the arena. There she was, just like in all the pictures, Harriet Bree-Yang’s target for the night. She didn’t wave or blow kisses to the crowd. She didn’t even look up at the stands, her focus entirely on skating. She was damn quick, making two full circuits around the arena before Yang had even completed one. Yang kept her confident smile pasted on her face, ignoring the feelings of absolute horror that was settling into her stomach. She had to keep up with that?

Then Oobleck shouted, “And now, number 28, Brawler Elm Ederne!” and the crowd went ballistic. The entire arena quaked. Yang fancied that the whole floating city might have been shaking from the sheer force of eighty thousand fans frothing at the mouth. Elm emerged from the entrance, both hands waving in the air, deathstick held triumphantly over her head. She already expected to win, and the fans expected it too. Yang couldn’t blame them.

She also couldn’t wait to prove them wrong. 

There was another whistle blast as the ref from earlier waved his hands, ordering the teams to organize their starting positions. The Bumblebees had already planned out their lineup beforehand, with Penny taking point in the first half rather than Blake. She and Weiss would come up in the second half, letting the team’s, as Winter said, ‘elite forces carry the day’.Yang would in the whole match, at least until she got injured. Yang looked over at the team’s dugout to find Schill, her potential replacement. Her teammate wore a nervous expression that clearly read ‘For the love of the gods don’t make me play Brawler’. Nora would also be in the whole game, as their only Goaltender. The Artisans were wasting no time, with Coach Ebi putting both Elm and Harriet into the starting lineup.

And so Yang skated up to the center of the arena and paired up with Harriet. She smiled across the way at Penny, who returned it warmly in between banter with Elm who still seemed like the happiest woman in the world. Yang could feel Harriet glaring at her before she turned to see it. 

“So you’re Yang Xiao Long,” she drawled, her stance tight, ready to sprint at a moment’s notice.

Yang answered by rolling her shoulders and pushing her hips lower. “That’s me.” 

“First season, huh?” Harriet said, “I could probably knock you over my damn self.”

Yang smirked the foot and a half down to meet Harriet’s eyes. “Can you reach, pipsqueak?” Harriet grit her teeth as she growled,

“Elm’s gonna snap you like a twig, bitch.”

“Not if I snap her first,” Yang shot back. It wasn’t her best comeback, but her smack talking skills were nearly spent as it was. Bartending taught you how to be polite to people, mostly. This kind of talk went against everything that Yang had practiced over the past four years. Still, it seemed to be working. Harriet scoffed and focused back on the ref. Sun Wukong was trying to get the players to agree to play a fair match, an effort that was going poorly.

“You think you’re going to beat Elm? She’s the best Brawler in Atlas.”

“She was,” Yang agreed, shooting another cocky look at Harriet, “then she met me.”

“Who the fuck-” Harriet started to say,

Then the ball dropped. 

The sidelong flicker of Harriet's eyes to stare death at Yang, that half a second of hesitation, was all the time that Penny needed to snatch the ball away from the center. The Artisan’s striker snarled and jetted backwards, switching directions on a dime and pumping her legs after Penny. 

Yan almost hadn’t realized that Harriet had left the center before she was gone, but the moment that she did she started barrelling down the Arena after her. The Artisan’s Screeners clashed with the Bumblebees, smashing together in a mad dash to protect or claim the ball for themselves. The two lines of players slammed together, sending players, equipment, and blood flying everywhere. Yang saw at least two of the Bumblebee’s Screeners go sailing from the impact alone. 

The two Artisan Screeners who were free turned as a synchronized pair and charged at Yang. There were no battle cries or bellows as they pounded the arena towards her, only the cold, steely stare of a seasoned professional. As the first one came towards her, swinging her deathstick to try and knock her off balance, Yang darted right and deflected the strike, flying past the opponent and into a shoulder charge. She smashed full bore into the second Screener, who let out a grunt of pain as they were thrown back and off their feet. 

“Ho ho! Xiao Long knows how to clear the road!” Port roared and the crowd went wild, but there was no time to worry about that. Yang looked around wildly, spotting Penny making her rush on the goal. Streaming towards her, nearly too fast to see, was Harriet. Yang set her jaw and thundered after the pair, but she was too slow.

Harriet blew through Penny with a vicious body slam, throwing the Striker off balance and sending her stumbling into the side of the arena. Yang bellowed and pumped her legs harder, forcing Harriet to look up. Yang was on her in moments, braced for a hit, but the Artisan wasn’t there any longer. Yang whirled around to see her almost halfway down the arena, ball firmly in her control. On the other side of the arena, Elm started to link up with her teammate, bowling through two of the Bumblebee’s Strikers without even a second thought. 

Yang pushed off after her gave chase, hearing Penny next to her. The pair screamed by the defensive line of Artisans, Yang bashing another to the ground for good measure, and closed the distance as best they could. Harriet Bree was a blur, sliding in and out of line with practiced ease and dodging hits like she could see them coming a mile away. Elm, on the other hand, went out of her way to smash through anyone who got in her way. Her deathstick never touched the arena, without even the thought of using it for handling the ball. Elm used her deathstick as a hammer, giving opposing players thundering blows as she went by. 

There had to be something that they could do to even the odds, Yang thought sourly, as she watched the pair of Artisans close on the goal. Nora, for her credit, didn’t charge the opposing striker, instead standing firm and waiting for the shot.

It didn’t come, at least not at first. Harriet darted backwards, twirling around Elm and letting the Brawler take the lead. Nora’s face went pale as she realized what had happened and, as her entire focus was on Elm, the ball slammed into the goal without even an attempt to stop it. The buzzer went off and the Artisans started to cheer, the fans stomping and roaring in support while Port and Oobleck ranted about what a beautiful play that had been. The score was already 1-0 and they’d been playing for all of a minute. 

At the goal, Elm came to a shuddering halt in front of Nora and reached out, patting her on the head. She smiled warmly down at the Goaltender, clearly only meaning to encourage her, but the effort came off as patronizing. Nora’s eyes narrowed and she settled into her position, knuckles white as she gripped her deathstick.

Wukong blew his whistle again, drawing the starting lineup back to the center for a new drop. Yang glowered at the ref as she waited for the signal, ignoring the shit eating grin plastered over Harriet’s smug face. While the rest of the players focused on the ref, the wheels were turning in Yang’s mind. She couldn’t keep up with Harriet, not if she kept committing to hits and getting left behind. That much was clear, even from the first exchange of blows in the match. Elm and Harriet were a pair, coordinated and organized much in the same way that Yang and Blake had been training to become. Nothing that Neo or Winter had said could have prepared Yang for the sheer level of synchronicity the famous pair had displayed. Yang gripped her deathstick tighter and considered her options.

Charging Harriet was an exercise in futility. There was nothing for it, she was just too fast. Yang thought back through the months of practice, trying to glean some kind of knowledge from how she had seen Blake and Penny react during practice matches. Her eyes flickered to the dugout, resting on Blake and her confident smile, on Winter and her perpetual scowl, on Weiss and-

Weiss. That was it. The best Screener on the Bumblebees hadn’t become that way by tackling people, that was Yang’s job, but she harassed them in the arena. The times when Blake screwed up a shot or had to reposition were usually due to Weiss, not going in for a tackle but by being a nearby threat, hovering just close enough that she  _ might _ do something. It was enough to cause Blake and Penny to reconsider, no matter how confident they felt in their teammates defending them. It might just work on Harriet. 

The ball dropped and this time it was Yang who was distracted. Not that it made much difference as Elm shoved Penny aside so hard that the Striker went tumbling down the arena in a tangle of limbs and equipment, but Harriet snagged the ball and pushed off towards Nora. Yang followed, keeping close enough that she could potentially go in for a tackle if she needed, but far enough away that she wouldn’t be prioritized by Elm. 

Regardless, she could feel the giantess pounding the tiles as she raced after Harriet. Mauve, a Screener for the Bumblebees, tried to knock Elm off balance and rebounded like a rubber ball, the Brawler not slowing even a smidge. The rest of the Screeners were busy trying to hold off the Artisans, leaving only Yang to stop the rush. 

As Harriet reached the goal, she slowed, ever so slightly and looked back. Yang met her eyes and scowled, pushing herself to move faster, leaving Elm behind. The Striker cursed and swerved to the side, spinning out and wide to swing around for another attempt. Yang let out a sigh of relief as she saw that, then suddenly she was sliding across the ground in a heap.

It felt like getting hit by a truck. Yang went sailing across the ground, rolling over in a terrible pile of limbs and pads and hair falling out of its ponytail. She came to a stop and groaned aloud. Her entire body hurt. Still, she grit her teeth and pushed herself upright with the aid of her deathstick. She looked back to where she had just been, twenty feet away now, to see Elm smile sheepishly and skate away. So that was what getting tackled by a sixteen year professional felt like. 

“Yang!” Nora cried out, “You okay?”

Yang nodded quickly and got back to her feet, scanning the players for Harriet. She was currently in the back, circling, waiting for an opportunity. Penny was darting from side to side, trying to get around the wall of Screeners. Elm was currently obliterating the Bumblebees’ defensive line. So Yang pushed off and rushed the line, a single Artisan Screener just a bit out of line. They tried to brace, but Yang put her whole body into the hit and the Screener went flying. Penny squeaked and rushed through the opening, Yang pushing through after her.

The sliding form of the Artisan Screener wound up in front of Harriet, forcing her to change directions and wind up on a collision course with Yang. Before Yang could even make up her mind about going in for a hit, the Striker whipped around and started moving the ball up the arena.

Or at least she would have, if Penny didn’t appear from nowhere and snatch the ball away. Harriet gasped as Penny raced by, and Yang could only stare as Penny outmaneuvered the Artisans Goaltender and slammed the ball into the goal. 

The buzzer went off. 1-1.

The rest of the first half went much the same way, with Yang harassing Harriet enough to force her to fall back. The two Strikers jostled for control of the ball, demonstrating a phenomenal passing game with their Screeners, but neither one could score a goal for the rest of the half. Yang and Elm circled the arena, punishing any Screeners who were out of line or threatened their Striker.

By halftime the Bumblebees looked much worse off than the Artisans, many sporting welling bruises and bloody lips. Yang could feel that her back would be cramped to hell the next morning from the hit Elm gave her alone, never mind the rest of the impacts she’d suffered that night. The teams retreated to their locker rooms during the half while Port and Oobleck recounted what a spectacularly exciting match it had been so far. 

In the locker room, Winter was going around to each of the players who took part in the first half and giving them notes. Yang watched without really registering what was being said. She leaned heavily into Blake, who had an arm around her shoulders and was whispering what a good job she was doing so far. 

“Nora, good positioning,” Winter continued, scratching off each note as she went, “Penny, excellent steals so far, your starts need work.” Penny nodded enthusiastically, a split lip and black eye doing nothing to dampen her spirits. “Yang,” Winter said, stopping in front of her. Yang looked up, trying to force a smile onto her face, “Good enough.” 

Yang sagged onto the bench and into Blake’s embrace. She hadn’t expected much praise from her performance, so even that noncommittal expression sent a wave of joy through her system. As Winter continued down the line, Yang looked up at Blake.

“How am I doing out there?” she asked softly. Blake held her closer and rested her head on Yang’s shoulder.

“You’re doing great, baby,” she said and Yang took comfort in the affirmation of her ability. “Can’t wait to play next to you this half.”

Right. Blake was getting in the arena soon. The exhaustion and pain shot out of Yang’s muscles like lightning, replaced with determination and a fierce protectiveness. “She’s not gonna touch you. I swear.”

“Elm?”

“Yeah.”

Blake reached up and stroked Yang’s hair gently. Yang shuddered at the touch. How could someone with such strong, calloused hands empart a touch so gentle, so full of care? Yang melted into the touch, wishing that they could just stay there instead of going back into the arena. “We’ll take her down together,” Blake said, a quiet firmness in her voice. It reminded Yang of the pine trees back on Patch, battered by the storms that rolled in from the sea but utterly unyielding. Yang could only nod, her heart so full of love and adoration for the woman next to her. 

The whistle that called them back came too soon and Yang had to repress the urge to just wrap her arms around Blake and stay on the bench.They would have all night for that after the match, whether they won or lost.

The second half commenced, the score still at 1-1. “It’s a low scoring match tonight,” Port said, “But an exciting one!”

“Quite! I don’t think we’ve seen this level of strategic play since at least last season.” Oobleck continued, “The Bumblebees have swapped out number 65, Penny Polendina, for number 27, Blake Belladonna. We’ll see if her performance is up to par with her teammate’s tonight!”

“She’s had a rough return to the arena since her match against Cinder Fall,” Port said, and Yang could see Blake wince at the mention of that match, “I hope fans are ready for anything!” The implicit meaning of ‘We don’t know how well she’s recovered, so she might be great or terrible,’ did not go unheard in the arena. Harriet’s smirk was enough indication of that. 

Ref Wukong blew the whistle, assembling the teams in the center again. As they paired off, Yang could hear Weiss complaining to the Artisan Screener that Port and Oobleck hadn’t mentioned  _ her _ in the announcements, but she was fine, she was  _ fine _ . Yang looked over to see the opposing Screener trying not to lock eyes with Weiss, preferring to look anywhere else, and Weiss rolled her eyes at Yang. Realization dawned on Yang: if the opposing Screener was too busy trying to ignore Weiss, she wasn’t paying attention to the ball drop. It was all part of the game. 

The ball dropped and Yang whacked Harriet’s bid for possession aside. The opposing Screener was so preoccupied not paying attention to Weiss that they didn’t see the action start, leaving Weiss open to pass the ball to Blake. Suddenly both the ball and Blake were gone, tearing down the arena, and the center huddle broke apart in a hurry, everyone playing catch up. 

Blake looked back at Yang with a reassuring smile, letting her know that she was doing fine. As if to bring the sentiment home, Blake danced around two of the Artisans Screeners and soon had a clear shot on the goal. She reeled back to slam the ball forwards, only to drop back down and skirt aside as Harriet Bree appeared beside her, missing a tackle by inches. 

The Artisan’s Striker turned around for another attempt, but Yang interposed between the pair and cut her off. Harriet’s face contorted into an inhuman mask of rage and she swung wide. Yang was open to a tackle right now, and she knew it. Moreover, she didn’t think that she would be able to stand if Elm slammed into her again. 

Fortunately, that was not to be. Yang swung around to keep up with Blake, and looked across the arena to see Elm doing the same with Harriet. The plan was working. Now was the time to strike. 

Harriet started barreling towards Blake and Yang, the huge form of Elm right behind her. Yang braced for impact and wheeled to face them, knowing that if she didn’t succeed now there was no way to try again. Either Elm would catch on or Yang would shatter a bone and be taken out of the match. Blake rocketed around her, swinging wide for another shot at the goal, shouting something to the Screeners.

As the two Brawlers closed in on one another, the crowd started to scream for blood, and the announcers weren’t much better. 

“It looks like the matchup we’ve been waiting for is finally here!” 

“What will triumph? Measured experience or youthful exuberance?”

Yang knew that it was more than experience or energy, it was going to be all about positioning. If she could just deliver a powerful enough hit to Elm’s chest she could knock her over and maybe the impact with the ground would take her down completely. It was a thin hope, but it was what she had. 

Harriet leapt aside and blazed past, Yang not paying her any mind as she and Elm smashed together, two mountains battling for dominance. 

Elm started to fall over backwards, a shout of surprise on her lips, but it was too soon. Yang hadn’t even hit her yet. 

But then there was the flash of amber eyes, the locks of midnight hair streaming behind her, and Yang saw it. Blake slammed her shoulder into the small of Elm’s back, knocking her off balance, a roar of determination tearing from her mouth. Yang wasted no time, putting all her weight into her charge and delivering a thunderous blow to Elm’s jaw.

The Artisan’s Brawler screeched in pain and nearly flipped over from the hit, slamming so hard into the surface of the arena that the ground shook. There was a whistle blast as the ref raced over and play stopped. Yang came to a halt and suddenly felt an arm around her shoulders, looking down to see Blake beaming up at her.

“Thanks,” Yang managed to say, the impact knocking the wind out of her despite coming out on top, “You were...I mean...thanks.”

Blake smirked and squeezed Yang’s shoulders, then turned back to watch the ref. Wukong knelt down next to Elm and checked a pulse. Satisfied that she was still alive, he studied her for a few more moments, then waved one arm.

“It looks like the ref is calling over the medics! This could be decisive!” Oobleck’s shrill voice echoed around the arena as a small horde of medics descended on the still form of Elm Ederne. One of the medics knelt next to Elm and wafted a bottle of something foul underneath her nose. The huge woman groaned and rolled away, but otherwise didn’t stir. A different medic stood up and waved their arms in a ‘No go’ gesture. “The medics are calling it! Elm Ederne is out cold!”

There was stunned silence. The stands were stock still as the fans stared, dumbfounded, at the fallen form of Elm Ederne. Even Yang didn’t know how to respond other than to whisper, “We...we did it?”

Blake nuzzled her head against Yang’s arm, not caring that suddenly the air was full of flashing cameras. “Yeah, babe. We did it.” Yang smiled goofily and slung an arm around Blake, holding her close. She looked around to see Weiss smiling grimly, Nora pumping her fists in the air, and Harriet Bree, gaping in shock as no less than six medics lifted Elm and carried her out of the arena. There was wild cheering from behind and Yang turned to see the entire Bumblebees dugout devolving into a haphazard mess of hugging, joyous players. Winter’s expression was almost unreadable, but Yang could swear that there was just a hint of pride in her eyes. 

Elm was carried away, Coach Ebi in hot pursuit of the medics. “You-you haven’t done shit!” Yang turned to see Harriet skating up to her, a monstrous snarl etched on her features by a master craftsman. “You might have-I-You still have to win the match!” she hissed. Yang was still too awestruck at the thought of Elm being eliminated from the match to respond, but fortunately Blake was quicker on the uptake. 

She untangled herself from Yang for a moment and squared up with Harriet, the two no more than half a foot apart as they glared into each other's eyes. “Who’s gonna stop us? You?” Blake asked, that surge of confidence that she always carried with her in matches shining through like a beacon. Harriet had no response to that, instead wheeling away and skating back to her team. Yang was no longer awestruck at the thought off Elm, instead she was staring at Blake. A familiar warmth emanated from her core as she watched Blake smirk and crack her knuckles.

“Oh my gods,” Yang muttered, grabbing Blake’s attention, “That was...holy shit, Blake.” Blake cocked her head to the side curiously as she skated back over to Yang. 

“Hmm? What’s up hon?” she asked, a web of confusion settling into her gaze. Oh gods, she didn’t have any idea how absolutely irresistible she seemed to Yang right now. She didn’t realize that all Yang’s words were failing her and the only thing that she could even think of doing was sweeping Blake up for a kiss. 

“Uh, you were...um, I mean…” Yang stumbled over her words. Why was it so hard to be eloquent around Blake? It was like she took every one of Yang’s thoughts, all the smooth lines she had perfected over the years, and turned them upside down without even trying. She was just so godsdammed beautiful, and clever, and funny, and smart and...and... 

Blake reached up and stroked Yang on the cheek and Yang’s mind shorted out. “You’re cute, baby.”

“But-but inexperienced right?” Yang stammered. Blake giggled and nodded, settling in next to Yang again as they waited for the match to continue. 

The rest of the match was a breeze compared to earlier. Harriet Bree was just as confident as ever, but without Elm to provide cover it was open season. Weiss delivered the first tackle to the opposing Striker, sending Harriet skittering sideways and struggling to recover. It was like a spell had been broken and suddenly the Striker’s speed and dexterity vanished. Everyone on the Bumblebees got in a hit on Harriet Bree and she had to be taken out of the arena before the last quarter of the match. 

That was all the opening the Bumblebees needed to secure the win. As soon as Harriet was out of the arena, Blake scored, one, two, three goals in rapid succession. The buzzer went off as time ran out and the whole team swarmed the center of the arena, screaming and cheering as black and yellow confetti rained down on their heads. 

Yang wrapped Blake up in a hug and lifted her high into the air, spinning them around in a dizzying circle, Blake laughing delightedly the whole while. Everyone came up to pound Yang on the back and congratulate her on taking down Elm, and every time she stressed that she would never have been able to do it without Blake. Nora burst through the crowd and tackled Yang to the ground with a flying hug, screaming into her chest. Penny and Blake were holding hands and chatting rapidly about how well everyone had done, all of Blake’s shy demeanor forgotten in the wake of a win. Weiss triumphantly led the team to the locker room, deathstick held high above her head in victory. Even Winter had a flicker of a smile playing at the side of her lips. As they left the arena, Yang looked around to see everyone’s smiling faces and then, in the distance, the overjoyed face of Elm Ederne, now sporting a wrapping of bandages around her head and an ice pack. The giantess smiled broadly at Yang and gave her a thumbs up. Yang smiled back and waved before the team all but carried her to the locker room. 

The team changed quickly and soon found themselves in a bar near the edge of Atlas. Nora bought everyone drinks that night, the loser of the team’s earlier poker game. The whole place was full of drunken Deathsticks players, leaning on one another, laughing uproariously, and comparing their newest injuries. 

Blake and Yang had settled in at a table in the back corner. Blake sipped slowly at a hard iced tea, watching as Weiss got into an argument with Nora about how to properly take a shot. Yang had an arm slung around Blake’s shoulders as she drank her strawberry sunrise, half listening to the argument. “Hey, Blake?”

“Yeah?” Blake asked, looking up with those wonderful amber eyes. They were so full, so round tonight, so full of indescribable love for the lilac eyes they met.

“I...when do we get to go to bed? I’m exhausted,” Yang said, smiling sheepishly and taking another drink to avoid looking too embarrassed. Blake laughed aloud at that and Yang would gladly have listened to her laugh all night. 

“Soon, I think. Winter got us all hotel rooms for the night.”

“Okay. That sounds good,” Yang replied. The strawberry sunrise was doing nothing to keep her awake. If anything, it was bringing her closer and closer to the point of collapsing on the table. 

“Do you want to head over there now? You look like death,” Blake teased, reaching up and combing a hand through Yang’s hair. Yang shuddered but didn’t reach up to stop her. If it had been anyone else, even her sister, she would have smacked their hand away but Blake could do as she pleased. Her touch was so soft, so gentle, that it didn’t even feel like she was drifting her hands through Yang’s hair at all.

“I really would, honestly,” Yang said, leaning into the touch. Blake nodded knowingly and stood up, grabbing her jacket as she did. Yang immediately missed her touch, but the next words out of her mouth put her at ease.

“Winter got us seperate rooms. Do you think we’ll need them?”

Yang shook her head ruefully as she slid on her jacket to protect against the chill Atlas air. “Not at all,” she said. Blake all but lived in her condo anyway. Aside from a handful of pictures and clothes, Blake had slowly moved everything she owned over to Yang’s place over the span of the past couple months. It had been such a seamless transition that Yang hadn’t even noticed it until Blake stopped needing to run back to her house for something she’d forgotten. Now, everything was in one place. Why would the hotel be any different?

The two waved goodnight to their teammates, despite Nora and Penny’s attempts to get them to stay, and started to walk to their hotel. It wasn’t far from the bar, just enough time to entwine their fingers and get some comfort out of each other’s presence. “When we get back to Vale, do you want to go out to dinner?” Blake asked, “I have a place in mind.”

“Old Man Shopkeep’s?” Yang replied and Blake stifled her laugh with her free hand.

“There’s more than one restaurant in Vale, Yang.”

“Maybe, but are they as good?”

Blake shook her head in mock desperation, failing to keep the smile from her voice. “You’re ridiculous, Yang Xiao Long.”

Yang squeezed Blake’s hand, which was gratefully returned, “Thanks baby, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Blake rolled her eyes and quickened her pace, but kept her hand firmly grasped in Yang’s. They slept soundly that night, snuggled up together underneath the blankets, serene comfort filling in the gaps exhaustion left behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite chapters in the fic.  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang and Blake celebrate their win over the Atlas Artisans and finally make their relationship official. Blake receives some incredible news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Yangst in this chapter!

An insistent buzzing filled the room, long blasts of vibration shattering Yang’s dreams. She groaned and rolled over to grab her phone off the end table, fingers scrabbling against wood for a moment before they found the buzzing device. There was a call coming in from Ruby. Yang checked the time-about ten in the morning, a sliver of sunlight piercing through the drawn curtains and resting at the foot of the bed. The phone kept buzzing.

Yang looked over at Blake, who was still curled up beside her, snoring softly. She so badly wanted to fall back asleep, return to that wonderful embrace and forget about her responsibilities, but that wouldn't do. 

“Hey Ruby,” she said, voice deep and gravely from her slumber, “how are you?” Blake’s eyes drifted open and she looked around for a moment before seeing Yang. The blonde looked down at her apologetically, and Blake shrugged before resting her head back on the pillow and falling back asleep.

It was good that Yang hadn’t put the phone on speaker, as it would have undoubtedly woken Blake. As it stood, Ruby’s voice made Yang’s ear ring as she screamed, “Yang! You were so good last night!”

“So you watched the match?” Yang asked, propping herself up on her elbow and turning away from Blake. She didn’t want to wake her up again, if it could be avoided.

“Of course I did, are you crazy? The entire bar was watching! Even dad stopped working.”

That did surprise Yang. Tai never stopped for anything except serious injury or a crime. There must have been work to do but he had decided to sit and watch? “He did? Wow.”

“Yep! He was so proud when you came out into the arena. I thought he was gonna start crying,” Ruby said and then there was the sound of chewing as she stuffed what was almost certainly a cookie into her mouth. After a long moment, she managed to speak through her food, “I nearly started to cry too. I mean, you were so cool! It was like watching something out of a movie. You chased Harriet Bree up and down the arena like crazy and then when you and Blake Belladonna tag teamed Elm Ederne? Oh my gods, everyone went wild.” It made Yang feel good to know that she had support back in Patch, unlike the stony reception of the Atlas crowd. “They’ve been replaying it all night!”

Yang furrowed her brow asking a question she already knew the answer to. “All night? Did you not sleep?”

“I tried, but I was so excited and then I wanted to call you, but dad said to wait for the morning, and I just couldn’t get to sleep so I just, you know, didn’t.” Of course she hadn’t gone to bed. Getting Ruby to sleep was a chore at the best of times. Now that she had something to spend all night doing it would have been impossible. “I’m gonna go to sleep right after this, I swear! I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m flattered,”

“Don’t tease me! I was proud of you!”

“It’s good to talk to you, sis,” Yang said, “I’m glad that you watched the match.” Ruby squealed in excitement and Yang reflected that if her sister ever came up to Vale then she would have to introduce Penny. The two would get along like a house on fire. 

“Are you kidding, I wouldn’t miss it for the world! I know you’re not playing next week, but I’m gonna watch every match this season.”

Yang briefly considered trying to talk her sister out of it, but such endeavours rarely worked out in Yang’s favor. Instead she settled down on the pillow with a soft thud and asked, “So who’s playing next Saturday?” 

Ruby answered immediately, so quickly that Yang wouldn’t have been surprised if she had a list of matches open in front of her. “Grimm Grindhouse against Cinnamon Crosshairs. My money’s on Grimm Grindhouse.” There was a loud silence, then, “Not that I’m betting or anything!”

Yang laughed, but her mind was elsewhere. Cinder Fall played for Grimm Grindhouse. That match still had to happen, when she and Cinder would go toe to toe. She clutched the blankets tightly, thinking about it. She would be ready to take Cinder out, she had to be. If she didn’t then Blake would be the one who suffered most. Cinder had already defeated the team’s best Brawler years ago, it only made sense that she wanted to continue her conquest with their best Striker. “Let me know what happens. If you win that bet, I want a cut.”

“What? No, it’s my money on the line,” Ruby protested and Yang could picture her crossing her arms in frustration.

“Yeah, and I got you into the sport! I’m talking like five percent.”

“Hope you can get a lot for two Lien in Vale.”

“You never know. I’m thrifty,” Yang said with a sly smile and Ruby snorted in response. The phone buzzed again and Yang looked at the screen to see a text from Winter that said, ‘Bus by eleven’. Yang checked the time again-10:15. “All right, Rubes, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later this week, all right?”

“Okay! Dad says don’t get hurt! Bye!” and Ruby hung up. Yang let out a long sigh and collapsed back into bed. She could picture her father watching the match, the same expression of pride on his face that he had when Yang was a child in a first grade play. She could also picture him wincing every time she took a hit. It wasn’t a pretty sight and drove a spike of worry into her heart. No matter what happened, she had to come home in one piece, for Tai’s sake if nothing else.

“Hey, Blake,” Yang said, rolling over and planting a light kiss on Blake’s cheek, “C’mon, we gotta get up.” Blake opened her eyes sleepily and smiled as she saw Yang.

“Do we have to?” she asked, pulling herself closer to Yang with one arm. “It’s nice in bed.” Yang sucked her teeth, forced to agree. There was nowhere else she would rather be, and the bus probably wouldn’t leave without them.

“Winter says the bus will be here in forty five minutes,” Yang whispered, not really caring about their timeframe. They could stay here forever, just the two of them, in this bed. That would be lovely.

Blake hummed softly and buried her head into Yang’s chest. “So we have half an hour to ourselves.”

“You don’t want to shower?” Yang asked and could feel Blake shaking her head.

“I’ll shower before dinner tonight. I want to look good.”

“You always look good, Blake,” Yang whispered and Blake chuckled softly. She reached up and cupped Yang’s cheek, dragging her closer until she was resting comfortably.

“Charmer,” Blake murmured, still half asleep. She was adorable when she was sleepy.

“That’s me,” Yang said and placed a kiss on the top of Blake’s head. She flicked her cat ears playfully and smiled again before the two of them dozed off for a little while longer.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Are you?”

“Yeah. I mean...yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound sure.”

“I’m sure, Blake. I mean it.”

“Really? We can stop if you want.”

Yang let out a long sigh. She and Blake were splayed out across the four poster bed in Yang’s condo. What had started as a celebratory dinner for two had evolved into something else. The two hit it off over dinner, well, they already had in the arena weeks ago but it was a different kind of thing when the uniforms were off and the equipment was put away. As soon as the lockers closed and they stepped out of the arena they were two different people. Gone was the ever confident Blake Belladonna, champion of the Deathsticks Arena and recipient of the Premier Professional Striker award three times over. Gone was the unstoppable Yang Xiao Long, rising star across Remnant and already a prospect for Rookie MVP this season. As soon as two sat down for dinner they were just...people. Admittedly, they were people who had been living together and sleeping in the same bed for months, but they had never explicitly said they were dating. This restaurant, a fancy suit and tie kind of place, seemed almost out of place in their normal fare.

Yang had remembered to pull out Blake’s chair for her and take her coat; it was only polite and her father had taught her well. She still couldn’t keep her hands from shaking as she saw the dress Blake had chosen for their night out, a flowing black gown with silver trimming that hung elegantly off Blake’s shoulders, gracing the tops of her feet with every step. It was the kind of dress that drew people’s attention. It was the kind of dress that gave off a very distinct feeling that Blake hoped their meal out was more akin to a date than just a dinner. It was the kind of dress that made Yang feel underdressed in her flannel shirt, jeans, beanie and team jacket. The jacket even had her own name on it, how tacky was that?

Blake hadn’t commented on Yang’s choice of attire, which only made Yang feel worse. Ruby, Tai, Neo, even Weiss would’ve made a light joke about it, but Blake looked to be preoccupied with something, as if her mind was far away. Meanwhile, Yang fidgeted with her silverware as a waiter brought their drinks, some hard iced tea and water for Blake and a strawberry sunrise for Yang. Despite their months together, Yang couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Blake’s radiant beauty swept every thought from her mind. Still, she had to come up with something.

“So,” Yang managed after taking a sip of her drink, “That was a good match the other day, don’t you think?”

“Uh, yes it was,” Blake replied, snapping back to look at Yang as if prodded. “You did a good job watching my back.”

“Well you took a hit for me too,” Yang said, fighting the urge to babble as best she could. Blake smiled softly at the mention of them teaming up to take down Elm Ederne. It had been good teamwork, even Winter admitted to that. “But, uh, do you mind if we don’t talk about Deathsticks? I know that I brought it up and everything, but I mean we practice all the time and I just thought maybe we could talk about something else? If you want! I don’t want to dominate the conversation or anything.”

That made Blake laugh, that same soft chuckling that made Yang swoon every time she heard it. “Okay. What do you want to talk about instead?” 

There was a long silence as Yang struggled to find something, Blake watching her expectantly. Eventually, after what seemed like far too long to be polite, Yang came up with,

“I didn’t expect you to wear such a nice dress. I would’ve gotten all dressed up if I had known. Would’ve gone out to get a suit or something.”

“Oh,” Blake said, a flare of uncertainty crossing her face as she glanced down at her dress, “Do you think it’s too much?” Blake looked back up, a small smirk playing on the side of her mouth, a look entirely unnoticed by Yang who was currently racing to find some way to salvage the topic. Realizing that she was out of time, she said,

“No! No, you look good. Great, even!” Immediately she cursed under her breath. Really? That was the best she could come up with? The single most beautiful woman in the world was across from her and the best compliment she could muster-

Her thoughts got cut off as Blake laughed again, one hand covering her mouth. Yang forced a smile, a tiny, nervous thing as she watched Blake’s next move. The other woman’s cat ears twitched in amusement as she smiled brightly up at her friend. “Grace under pressure isn’t exactly your strong suit, Yang.”

“That probably explains why I fall over so much during practice.”

Now when Blake laughed, Yang joined in, their merriment mixing and melding into a single melodious music that rose to the rafters of the restaurant and beyond. 

The rest of the evening passed wonderfully, the two of them swapping stories and lightly poking fun at the other as they ate their dinner. Yang didn’t eat much, too nervous to have much of an appetite. Blake didn’t seem that hungry either, but Yang marked it up as not liking the way her haddock was prepared or some such. 

When the waiter offered them dessert, Blake frowned and said, “We really shouldn’t. It’s no fun to practice after a lot of sweets.”

Yang nodded knowingly, despite having never experienced what Blake was talking about. Then the waiter mentioned an exquisite brownie sundae, and all bets were off. “I mean, we don’t have practice tomorrow. We’d have until Tuesday to get over it.” Winter had given the team some time off after the match, after all.

“Maybe you’re right. It’d still be bad though.”

“What if we split one? Then it’d only be half as bad.”

Blake let out a breath of a chuckle, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll split one.”

Soon the centerpiece on their table was a magnificent brownie sundae, three scoops of ice cream drizzled with hot fudge and caramel sauce with chocolate shavings and a cherry on top, all spread over a brownie the size of the plate. Yang let out an appreciative whistle as she sized up this latest course in their meal. Before she could ever decide where to begin, Blake snatched up the cherry, sticking the whole thing in her mouth. Yang tsked lightly at not being quick enough to get the cherry herself. It wasn’t as good as a strawberry on top, but fruit was fruit. As her spoon touched the first scoop of ice cream, being sure to get some of the brownie as well, Blake grunted softly.

Yang looked up, afraid that her friend was choking, only to see Blake stick out her tongue with a perfectly knotted cherry stem on the end. 

Yang stared at it blankly for a moment, then the realization hit.

Oh.

Oh! 

This wasn’t just a dinner. 

Now she really felt underdressed.

A half hour later, the two were splayed out on the bed, talking about if they really wanted to go through with the societally suggested climax of their night. 

Yang looked over at Blake, who was laying on her side, head resting one one arm, the other lightly tucked around Yang’s waist. “I don’t want to stop,” Yang said, “I just...it’s been a while, okay?”

“I get that,” Blake said with a soft sigh, “Maybe we could try kissing first?”

“Uh, yeah. Kissing sounds like a good place to start.”

The two shuffled closer until their bodies were pressed against one another, lips only an inch apart. Yang leaned in and Blake reciprocated. Their lips touched. Fireworks went off in Yang’s head. This was a full on kiss. They had kissed plenty over the past few months, but only on the cheek, the forehead, and sometimes, if they were feeling particularly bold, the neck. Now that it was a kiss on the lips it was different. It felt more serious somehow. 

Yang wasn’t a stranger to kissing. She’d had a few girlfriends in Patch, fooled around with a handful of her classmates at Signal, even missed whole days of classes with a special pair of twins while doing her undergrad at Beacon. None of that compared to this. This kiss, with Blake, felt like comfort, like finding a soft place to lay down after a long journey. Every other kiss had felt like a connection, but kissing Blake...kissing Blake felt like coming home. 

This was the first time that Yang felt like she ever truly let down all her walls and let someone see what was inside. She felt her body relax, limbs crossing and tangling with Blake’s as the two kissed. Blake rolled the two over until she was on top of Yang, without breaking their kiss. As the two settled into their new positions, Blake leaned back a hair to speak.

“Yang…are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Then the two returned to their kissing. Despite her many partners over the years, in this regard Yang was still the same way that Blake had described her when the two had first been introduced as teammates: Cute, but inexperienced.

Fortunately, Blake had enough experience for the both of them. 

Yang was sure that she had remembered to close the curtains before bed last night. The last thing they needed was some nosy teammate sneaking glances at her and Blake in bed together. So it was with no small amount of confusion that Yang groaned and rolled away from the screaming sun to get some relief and fall back to sleep. She reached out one arm and searched for Blake, who had fallen asleep right beside her. A few moments of searching turned up nothing. 

Suddenly the feeling of confusion was infected with dread, a sinking feeling in Yang’s core. She rolled back over, eyes snapping open, only to see that Blake was nowhere to be found, the normal smells of breakfast and tea distinctly absent. Yang bolted upright, nearly throwing the covers off as she looked wildly around the room, but there was still no sign of Blake. 

“Ah, shit,” Yang groaned, collapsing back into bed, her mind swirling with doubt. Did Blake really think the whole thing was a one night stand? Blake hadn’t seemed like that kind of person, or maybe that was just the way she tried to appear. Even after everything that they had done, this was how it was going to be? It wouldn’t be the first time Yang had been abandoned by morning, but at least those people had woken her up on accident so it didn’t all come crashing down at once. More importantly, how would Yang ever face her in practice? It was hard enough being hopelessly attracted to her but now it would be impossible. Gods, they were living together, how the hell was Yang supposed to handle that after being abandoned? Yang curled up into a ball and hugged a pillow to herself, burying her face into it and waiting for the tears she could already feel welling up in her eyes.

The bathroom door opened. “Morning, Yang,” Blake said as she stepped out, wrapped only in a towel. Yang whipped her head around, messy blonde hair flying everywhere as she did so. 

“Oh! Hi. Morning,” she stammered, hurriedly shoving the tearstained pillow to the side. 

“The shower’s open if you want it. The water pressure’s great for sore muscles,” Blake said as she reached into her side of the dresser and pulled out some clothes. She held up a teasing glimpse of something thin and lacey, but placed it back with a small smirk over her shoulder. Yang stared in a mixture of shock and utter amazement.

“You’ve sure been preparing for this.”

Blake smirked over her shoulder as she slipped the towel off and started to get dressed. “A woman can dream, Yang. I like to be ready for anything.”

“Did I live up to your dreams?” Yang teased lightly, sitting up again as she did. Blake rolled her shoulders as she thought about it, then said,

“You absolutely did. What did you even do to me last night? I’ve never slept so well.” By now she had her pants on and turned to face Yang as she clasped her bra behind her back. “I mean you started out a bit hesitant but...damn, Yang.”

Yang threw off the covers and stood, stretching her arms above her head to get the kinks out of her back. “I just followed your lead.”

“I don’t even know how to do half the things you did."

“I’m a woman of mystery.”

Blake snorted at that and slid her shirt over her head, then walked up to Yang and ran a finger along the blonde woman’s cheek. Yang shuddered slightly and leaned into the touch, allowing Blake to cup her cheek and guide her in for another kiss. This one was soft, tender, with none of the trepidation of the earlier parts of last evening or the passionate hunger of the end. This was a kiss that let Yang know that Blake had never even thought of leaving in the morning. What a fool she had been, Yang thought to herself as she hooked her arms around Blake’s waist and lifted her up, feeling her partner’s legs wrapping themselves about her hips. 

“Feisty, aren’t we?” Blake mumbled into Yang’s lips, then returned to kissing her. It was another few minutes before Yang got enough space to speak. 

“We have all day. Why not spend it doing something we love?” she asked, and suddenly Blake leaned back, now sitting comfortably in Yang’s grip. She frowned down at Yang and folded her arms across her chest.

“Don’t say it.”

“Or...someone?” Yang finished the joke, which made Blake groan and lean away, almost falling onto the bed. 

“You’re the worst,” Blake grumbled, but the smile playing at her lips made the piercing needles of worry fade away as soon as Yang saw it. “I just got dressed too.”

“Shame.”

“It really is. Give me a minute to fold all this back up.”

Yang nodded and set Blake back on her feet, who wasted no time in stripping back down. She left her clothes in an orderly pile next to the bed as Yang yanked the curtains closed again. By the time that Yang turned around, Blake was already on the bed, beckoning her forwards with one finger. There was no saying no to that kind of invitation. 

“I’m glad you’re a fast learner,” Blake said as Yang climbed on the bed, “but I hope you’re a better teacher.”

“You want to learn my secrets?” Yang asked softly as she fell into Blake, the two tangling together in a tapestry of touches, squeezes, and kisses.

“We have all day,” Blake mumbled between kisses, and Yank laughed lightly.

“It’ll take more than a day. First I have to remember what I did.”

Blake burst into laughter and rolled away, doubling over as she did. Yang followed, cupping herself around Blake’s body as though she was meant to be there, before feeling something press against the top of her head. Blake had grabbed a pillow for them. As the two settled their heads onto the pillow, ready to spend a day cuddling together, Blake sat up and looked at the pillow for a moment, then turned to Yang.

“Why is the pillow...were you…?” The rest didn’t need to be said. Yang tried to come up with a witty response, or something seductive, but failed miserably, all such thoughts fading as the pillow dampened with tears was discovered. She considered curling up into a ball and just trying to forget about the whole thing, but was stopped by Blake’s gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey...what happened?”

Yang sighed and snuggled closer to Blake. “I thought you left. I didn’t hear the shower and just assumed that...it’s happened before is all. I didn’t mean to start crying.” A long silence filled the room, and Yang just wanted to sink into the bed and never have to face the world again. Then Blake let out a sigh and kissed her lightly on the top of her head.

“Yang…I’m sorry I made you think that.”

“What? Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t know. It was all me, I shouldn’t have assumed that-”

“Yang,” Blake said again, lifting the other woman’s chin to meet her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words to respond caught in Yang’s throat. “I don’t know who hurt you like this, but I’m not like them. I’m not gonna leave you. I promise.” 

At last Yang found the muscles in her throat responding again and rasped, “You don’t have to,” but Blake was having none of it. With a determined shake of her head, she said,

“You promised to keep me safe in the arena, I’m promising to keep you safe out of it. Whatever’s going to happen next, I’m gonna be right there with you.”

There was no way to deny it. Yang could see the sincerity in Blake’s eyes, feel the strength of Blake’s will in the gentle caresses down her cheek. “Gods,” Yang gasped, then collapsed into Blake, sobbing quietly. Blake wrapped her arms around her partner and held her tight. No matter how much deep, welling sadness Yang was feeling now, it was all tinged with hope. She had someone to rely on, someone who wasn’t just her family. Blake was hers, and she was Blake’s. And gods...it just felt so right to be with her, lay there with her, even as the tears streamed down Yang’s face. 

How could she have ever doubted Blake? 

But she knew how. Somewhere deep in the cockles of her heart, the doubt still lingered. It festered, rotted, and spewed its vicious, corrosive bile everywhere. But for now, at least, Yang could ignore it.

They spent most of the day in bed, curled against one another, Blake cooing softly into Yang’s ear and hugging her reassuringly. Yang felt empty, cried out, but every time she looked up to see Blake’s comforting gaze she couldn’t help but smile a bit. They were small, nervous smiles, but they were there. That simple fact seemed to help Blake relax as well. They were both so tense, it felt like they might explode.

Finally, as the sun wheeled by overhead, Blake asked, “What did you mean when you said it happened before? The...leaving. I mean.”

Yang sighed and nuzzled closer to Blake. “I just...I don’t have a good track record with...keeping people around. I want to. I want to have that kind of connection but it’s just...it’s hard. People leave. I push them away, I guess. I don’t know why.”

Their eyes met and Yang could tell by the subtle twitch of Blake’s eyebrow that she saw through the lie. It wasn’t a lie, per say, people did leave. Yang had lost count of all the people who had left her behind. But that wasn’t the root of it. That wasn’t the heart of what had brought Yang to tears that morning. 

“When I didn’t see you this morning I thought that, well I worried that maybe you had-I don’t know how I did it, Blake. I didn’t want to, I know that you’re different from all of them,” Yang spat out the word ‘them’ with a venom she didn’t know she had, “but I just...I’m sorry.”

“Baby, it’s okay. Don’t apologize,” Blake whispered, placing a soft kiss on Yang’s cheek. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” The words filled Yang with such comfort that for a moment, one beautiful moment, all her doubts were assuaged. It was a calm, solid feeling that started in her heart and radiated outward, stretching through her stomach and into her neck, her feet, her hands. It grounded her, here, in this moment, with Blake. 

“I know. I know,” Yang whispered over and over again as the day went by. “I know.”

“Yang...you are so, so special to me,” Blake said, “When I came here from Menagerie, I didn’t think that...that I could get close to people again. I didn’t want to risk it. I was scared. But then you showed up and...all that changed. You were so different, so kind and gentle. You were the person I needed.” Blake hugged Yang closer until there was no more space between them. “I want to be the person you need. I want to be there for you. Always.”

“Always?” Yang mumbled, looking up out the corner of her eye to meet Blake’s gaze.

“Always.”

Other people had said always. Plenty of people had promised to stay with her forever. Blake’s promise felt different. Yang could feel the strength of it, emanating out from the fabric of her soul. Her doubts didn’t fade away, they couldn’t after so many years of being proven correct, but Blake’s words took the edge off their bite. Her promise softened the blows of anxiety and worry.

“I-I just-I want...Blake…” Yang whispered, then lifted her head, catching Blake’s lips on her own. The kiss said everything that she couldn’t find words for, forged the connection between them in a way that no other method could. Blake kissed her back gently, tenderly, with no hesitation. The kiss spoke of their commitment when nothing else was able to, it filled Yang with a sense of permanence that she had never known before. The kiss was a promise in and of itself, a promise that no matter what happened, no matter how harsh the storm, they would weather it. They would weather it together. 

Yang had never been happier over the next few weeks. She couldn’t help but smile whenever she saw Blake, couldn’t stop from laughing whenever she did. It was good. It was fulfilling. It filled Yang’s soul with a balm and honey, a mixture of trust and reliability that she didn’t realize she’d needed before meeting Blake. Even Neo’s snide comment of ‘Getting laid did you a world of good,’ couldn’t dampen her spirits. Blake had even started referring to Yang as her girlfriend.

Her girlfriend. She still couldn't believe it.

The next hurdle had been telling Ruby and Tai. Blake had been a bit hesitant, still nervous whenever the subject of family came up, but after sitting in on a few calls with Ruby she relented. The news that she and Yang were a couple had shocked Ruby, more due to the fact that Yang was dating  _ the _ Blake Belladonna than anything else. Tai was more level headed, taking over the call when Ruby’s excited chatter became too much. He had been calm and thoughtful, a tone that caused Blake’s shoulders to relax slightly. She had been so worried the night before they told Yang’s family that she had barely slept. Yang had found her at three in the morning, a pile of finished books next to her, reading feverishly. It was only after Yang bundled her up in a blanket and carried her to bed that Blake finally fell asleep. 

There were multiple calls with Ruby and Tai, and though most of them were simply catching up with one another Yang could tell that Tai was needling Blake with questions whenever he could. If Blake realized this as well, she didn’t say anything about it, just answered the questions with the calm and grace that Yang knew so well. In the end, she won Tai over. He had all but given them his blessing to wed by the end of their fifth call. 

The only person who seemed to be taking the news better than Yang was Nora. The Goaltender couldn’t go more than two minutes at practice without trying to badger the pair about their relationship. If it hadn’t been for Winter’s strict practice regime, she might have succeeded. Even without the constant questions, she had still gotten them to agree to a double date with her and Ren. 

Everyone seemed happy for them. Weiss still regarded the relationship with suspicion, narrowing her eyes every time that Yang and Blake hugged in the arena or snuck a kiss between plays, but would openly admit that it had improved their playing. The two of them, previously paired because of circumstance, had become inseparable in practice, always one step behind the other, perfectly in sync, shot for shot, tackle for tackle. They were a force to be reckoned with and soon their teammates actively argued over who would have the pair on their side in practice matches.

Their dominance extended to the real matches too. The Bumblebees breezed through their next match against the Cinnamon Crosshairs. Yang had obliterated the Crosshairs’ Brawler, Coco Adel, in the first two minutes and Blake skated circles around their Striker, Velvet Scaletina. Even their third primetime match, against Neo’s former team, Roman’s Romans, was a sweep. Yang and Blake were in the arena from the beginning of the match and made short work of the Romans formations, ending the match at a record setting 13-0. The coach of the opposing team, Roman Torchwick, tried loudly and poorly to argue that it was a home field advantage, but no one bought that for a minute. 

What people were buying was sports tabloids, most of which were now plastered with the headline ‘Rising stars! Belladonna and Xiao Long, the Unstoppable Duo!’ usually with a blurry picture of the two blazing down the arena. Ruby sent Yang a picture of the magazine cover, tacked to her bedroom wall. 

“Your sister’s a dork,” Blake said after Yang told her. She was sitting upside down on the couch, scrolling through the day’s news as the sun went down. Yang grinned at her from the kitchen, where she was preparing dinner. Blake’s lessons were paying off and she now trusted Yang to prepare their meals alone. It had only cost them three cutting boards, a roasting pan, and a stack of plates. It was a small price to pay in Yang’s mind, as long as Blake got to take some evenings to laze around. 

“Then I taught her well,” Yang replied, scooping sauteed onions and peppers into a bowl. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

“What’re we having?” Blake asked, rolling over and coming to her feet. She started to set the table while Yang finished preparing.

“End of the week, leftover casserole...thing,” Yang said, then paused in thought, “That doesn’t sound very appetizing. Clean out the fridge cuisine.”

Blake finished setting the table and grabbed some glasses and bowls for them. “That’s not much better.”

“C’mon, I’m a wordsmith, remember?” Yang replied, which only made Blake laugh. She sat down and got back on her phone, absorbing the headlines as she waited for Yang. Eventually Yang heaved over a bowl of all kinds of good things, meats, vegetables, and lots of spices. As Blake had taught her, always put in more spices than you think you need. You want to be able to taste what you’re eating. At any rate, with so many good things going in, the meal didn’t have much choice but to be delicious. After setting the bowl down with a satisfying thunk, Yang settled into her chair and started to dole out dinner. “Anything interesting on the news?”

“Not really. It’s been kind of a slow day-holy shit.” Blake stopped dead, her eyes wide, the phone shaking in her hand. Yang reached over and grasped her hand, feeling the shaking slow a hair. 

“What happened?” she asked softly. Blake looked up, an expression of absolute joy breaking out on her face.

“Cinder got suspended,” she breathed out as though it were all she could manage to say.

“What?” Yang sat up straight in her chair, now shaking a bit herself.

“Cinder’s suspended. She punched someone out during halftime and they took her off the team for the rest of the season.” Blake sank into her chair in relief, letting out a short, happy moan. “Our match against Grindhouse is coming up soon.”

“And Cinder’s not going to be there,” Yang finished the thought and grinned at the realization. Blake leapt at her with a kiss. She could barely keep from smiling as they fell into one another, kissing furiously.

“I’ve-I’ve been studying,” Blake managed between bouts of kissing, “I’ve been studying the rulebook for months trying to get her suspended!”

“That’s what you were doing this whole time?” Yang asked before planting a series of kisses up and down Blake’s neck. Blake gasped and angled her head to let Yang have more room to play with.

“Yes! Yes, and it’s finally over! I don’t have to play her again!” Blake moaned and then tangled her arms around Yang, tugging her up and towards the couch, dinner forgotten. It seemed a bit crude, Yang thought, to be so excited in the wake of someone else's tragedy. 

But, then again, fuck Cinder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Yang finally have a talk about Yang's fears! Hurray, drama!  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bumblebees head to Mantle to play the Happy Huntresses and Yang finally puts her training with Neo to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more violence in this chapter. Nothing graphic.

The next weekend the team was loaded back up on the airship for Solitas again, this time landing in Mantle for a match against the city’s home team the Happy Huntresses. Everyone was in high spirits, with the news of Cinder’s suspension spreading like wildfire. The airship flight to Mantle was full of nothing else but talking about what the suspension meant for the future of the season.

“I bet that she’ll be so angry!” Nora yelled from the back, “She’s probably fuming right now.” There was a chorus of agreement and a series of nods. Everyone knew that Cinder would be furious with her suspension, it was only logical. 

“Maybe she’ll stay suspended,” Penny said quietly, almost too quietly, a sliver of hope in that statement. She looked up and met Blake’s eyes quickly, a nervous smile on her face.

Weiss scoffed and settled deeper into her seat. “I doubt it. Salem will be throwing every rule she can think of at the commission to get her back.”

“You think so?” Nora asked and Weiss nodded confidently.

“I would be.” Weiss’ answer was a simple statement of fact, a purposeful bit of realism for the team to chew on. The sobering mentality didn’t last long, with Nora wide eyed and excited.

“Has anyone talked to Pyrrha? What does she think?”

Immediately the airship was full of players reaching for their phones and racing to be the first one to text the former Brawler. Blake sighed and turned back to face the front of the airship. “I already asked her,” she muttered to Yang, quietly enough that they wouldn't be overhead, “She said that she felt bad for Cinder. Can you believe that?”

“She feels bad for Cinder? Why?” Yang asked, using the hand slung around Blake’s shoulders to stroke the knots out of her hair. Blake shrugged, nearly upsetting Yang’s careful strokes.

“Pyrrha’s a bleeding heart, I guess. She’s got so much empathy, you could sell it,” Blake replied, leaning into Yang. 

“Can’t relate. I was glad to hear that she was suspended and I never met her.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Blake grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the dour expression for long. She rested her head on Yang’s shoulder, thinking for a moment. “We should go see her.”

“Cinder?”

“No, Pyrrha. You’d like her.”

Yang considered this and nodded slowly, “That sounds like fun. Wanna do that after the match? We should have a few days off, right?” Blake was already pulling out her phone and typing a message to the number labeled Pyrrha. The rest of the team, still eagerly waiting on a response from their old teammate, would be left to wonder as to her response. Before any of them got word back, Blake’s phone buzzed.

“She says that’s a wonderful idea. Can we make Monday at noon work?”

“Where does she live?” 

“Just outside Vale. It shouldn’t take us more than an hour to get there.”

“Hmm,” Yang stroked her chin in thought, “So we’d probably have to get up at ten thirty or so.”

“That’s not bad. Better than most days, anyway,” Blake said, thumb waiting expectantly over the keyboard. “Think we can pull it off?”

Yang sucked in a deep breath, as if conserving the very fabric of the universe before her. “I don’t know,” she said, “It depends what we spend Sunday doing.” She looked over and planted a kiss on the top of Blake’s head.

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” Blake asked, putting her phone away. The moment that her hand was free she slid it across the seat and placed it lightly on Yang’s thigh, “Not anything too exhausting, I hope.”

“Oh, babe, I could never get exhausted with you,” Yang said and Blake snorted with laughter, giving Yang’s thigh a squeeze. She sat up and kissed Yang on the neck, making the blonde shudder. 

“You need to work on those pickup lines, Yang.”

“Good thing I’m cute.”

“But not so inexperienced anymore.”

Yang hugged Blake closer and settled in for the rest of their flight with a soft chuckle. It was going to be a fun weekend.

“Xiao Long!” Winter shouted. Yang grumbled and stood, giving Blake another kiss before she mader her way up front. Coming to the section of seats that Winter always claimed for herself, she asked,

“You wanted to see me, coach?”

“Indeed,” Winter said, an open file on the Happy Huntresses in her lap. “I hope that your training is going well with Neo.”

If only being thrown to the floor fifty times instead of fifty one could be considered ‘going well’ was up for debate, but Yang nodded and said, “I think it is. She’s a good teacher.”

“I’m glad,” Winter said, holding out a paper for Yang. The page had the same green haired giant that Elm had been carrying in the newspaper clipping. Yang recognized her as Johanna Greenleaf, the Brawler for the Happy Huntresses. “You’ll need that training this match.”

Yang furrowed her brow as she read the file on Johanna Greenleaf. She had an impeccable record, was on her ninth season, and most worryingly, in bold letters on the very bottom of the page, ‘Prone to start fights’. “You think she’s going to try and pick a fight with me?”

“I expect her to, and you should as well.”

“Why?”

“Every player has their talents, Yang,” Winter explained, sounding for all the world like a kindergarten teacher on the first day of school. Yang didn’t appreciate the tone. “Elm’s was full on tackling, your’s is positioning, Nora’s is blocking shots, and so on. Johanna is a fighter at heart. She used to be a prize fighter before she joined the league.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Yang asked, passing the page back to Winter.

“Well of course it is, but the Huntresses appreciate her experience.”

“But Elm beat her.”

Winter raised her eyebrows as if she had suddenly been affronted by a petulant child. “And you’re not Elm. You’ve done well for yourself in the past few matches. Everyone was surprised when you took down Elm, but dealing with the Brawlers for both the Crosshairs and the Romans without being taken down yourself? That’s the kind of thing that every Brawler dreams about.”

“So what’s the problem?” Yang asked, folding her arms across her chest and narrowing her eyes. Winter looked amused at the expression of Yang’s displeasure. 

“The problem is that it paints a target on your back. Being able to take down other Brawlers quickly is a career setting kind of talent, but you know what would really make someone’s career? Ruining the perfect streak of another player.” Winter jabbed a finger at Yang, forcing her to take a step back in surprise, “That means you. Every Brawler in the league will be coming after you now.”

“Oh, gods,” Yang breathed out. She hadn’t considered that, her focus had been on being the best Brawler she could be.

“The last time something like this happened it was a bad day for everyone involved, except the Brawler who came out on top.”

“Cinder and Pyrrha.”

Winter nodded sagely, a grim smile on her face, “Exactly. Now with Cinder gone, everyone is looking to steal the spotlight from her. You’re the new rising star, taking you down hard would be the best way to do it.”

Yang let out a long breath and slumped down onto the seat behind her, ignoring Winter’s look of privileged annoyance at her bold behavior. “So everyone’s going to play to their strengths, huh?”

“That’s the way things are. The only way you’re taking down Johanna Greenleaf is with your fists, I’m afraid.” Winter said and then the conversation was over. That subtle shift in the air when the coach was done talking with someone was like having the air sucked out of the room. In Yang’s case it was much more akin to being slugged in the stomach. 

As she slumped back into her seat, Blake put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What did Winter say?”

“She said that I’m gonna get into a fight tonight,” Yang said, forcing a smile. It wasn’t convincing.

“Oh,” Blake whispered, “You know you don’t have to fight them, right?”

Yang nodded and shifted her posture a bit to be more comfortable. “I know. But from what Winter was saying, it’s not that easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way I understand it even if I don’t fight tonight, I’ll still be screwed. Apparently I’m the golden girl this season. Everybody wants a piece of me.”

“Well tough luck for them.”

“Why? You jealous?” Yang teased. Blake pushed herself off Yang and rolled her eyes playfully, choosing to stare out the window instead. Yang snorted with laughter, then settled in to enjoy the flight. At least if she got into a fight this match it would be with someone she had a chance of beating.

Huntress’ Haven, the Deathsticks arena in Mantle, had the particular distinction of being the only arena in Remnant that was open to the air. Some people blamed poor construction planning, but fans in the area claimed it was so the players could look up and see the stars. Yang sided with the former, the smog that choked the city far too thick to see through. Aside from that, the arena was like any other, if a bit smaller than most. Still, the fans were dedicated and even through the walls their cheers echoed softly and their stomping feet shook the building. 

The locker room was much the same as every other match, everyone sitting around in their gear performing their various pregame rituals. Blake, free from the need to study the rulebook, was smiling softly as she read a romance novel instead. Yang was listening to her music again, and keeping a wary eye out for Weiss trying to steal her headphones. 

Before long the door opened and there was a whistle blast as Sun Wukong entered the room. “Evening, everyone!” then there was the inevitable wink at Weiss, “Evening, snow angel. I want to see a good, clean game of Deathsticks tonight.” He rolled his hand in the air as he spoke. The team knew the speal by now. “Something, something, don’t kick people, whatever. You’re pros, you know this stuff.” He turned to leave, then stopped short and looked back over his shoulder. “And don’t club anyone during halftime! I wish I didn’t have to say it, but now I do. So, you know, don’t do that.”

Yang chuckled dryly at the thought of Cinder’s suspension causing the rules to change. At least she was going to have a legacy, Yang supposed. 

As the team got organized into their line, Blake stopped and leaned in to whisper into Yang’s ear. “Watch Winter before the match.”

“Why?”

“Trust me, you’ll want to see this,” Blake said, then moved ahead to take her place in line. Yang shrugged as she made her way to the back. Taking Blake’s advice had only ever paid off before, why would this be any different?

The Bumblebees organized their line on the entry tile, across from the Happy Huntresses in their tan and green. Yang tilted her head up to look at Johanna Greenleaf next to her, who looked back with a warm smile.

“Hey kid,” she said, “looking forward to the match?” She was just as big as in the pictures, all rippling muscle and scars. Her nose was crooked and she was missing at least two teeth, but none of that seemed to dampen her spirits.

Yang forced that same cocky grin onto her face that she had perfected in the past three matches. The crowd loved it, loved the idea that she was so confident in her skill that she would never break that smile. More importantly for Yang, it allowed her to hide the nerves that always shot through her body at the start of a match. “Sure am. What do you think about our chances?”

Johanna shrugged two massive shoulders. “The same as every other match: only as good as your Brawler.”

“Then I hope you’re ready to lose,” Yang said and broadened her smile. Johanna laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed throughout the room.

“I like this chick!” she shouted, “She’s got some heart!” Some of the other members of the Huntresses turned to see who Johanna was talking about. Yang recognized a few, among them the blue haired May Marigold and the adorable sheep Faunus, Fiona Thyme.

“But not too much heart, right?” There was suddenly another voice behind them. Yang turned to see a woman only a few years her senior, slick blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, violet eyes beaming out like she owned the whole world. Robyn Hill, coach of the Happy Huntresses. “C’mon Fistacuffs,” she said, giving Yang a once over, “Don’t hurt yourself trying to impress Johanna too much. She’s easy.” Johanna scoffed and turned away in mock offense. “Say, blondie, you seen your coach around?” Yang looked up the line to see Winter standing rigidly with her hands behind her back. When she pointed her out Robyn rolled her eyes and muttered, “Boy, she has a stick up her ass tonight. Hey, Schnee!”

Winter turned on her heel like a drill sergeant and marched down the line as though she were surveying her troops. She came to a sudden halt, stiff as a statue, in front of Robyn. “Miss Hill.”

“Hey, don’t act like that. You know you’re happy to see me,” Robyn teased, sending a wink Winter’s way. Winter immediately flushed a deep red, though she managed to maintain her composure. So this was what Blake wanted Yang to see. Behind Winter’s back the teams were watching the two coaches’ confrontation, whispering fiercely to one another. Nora muttered something into Blake’s ear and she had to cover up the laugh with a hacking cough. 

“I suppose it is nice to see you around again,” Winter admitted, “and I wish you and your team the best in tonight’s match.”

“Tough crowd tonight, huh?” Robyn said aside to Johanna, who was smirking as she watched Winter blush even harder. “I hope you guys do well tonight too.”

“Thank you,” Winter said and wheeled around again. She had gotten no more than a few steps away when Robyn called after her.

“You know, you can come to the afterparty tonight when we win.”

Winter’s grip on her own hand tightened so much that Yang thought she might have broken a finger. “That’s very kind. F-feel free to come to ours as well,” Winter choked out, then quickened her pace to the front of the line. Yang let out a stifled laugh as she watched the coach retreat. Had she been that obvious around Blake? Hopefully not, otherwise that would be terribly embarrassing. Robyn Hill walked up the line, stopping to chat with each of her team members as she went. As she passed Fiona she leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek, making the small woman bounce happily. Yang watched curiously for a moment, then turned back to Johanna.

“So, I’m wondering,” she said, forcing the confidence into her voice, “What’s the chance you risk getting into a fight with me?”

Johanna snarled good naturedly at Yang. “You keep talking like that, we can get into a fight on the first drop.” 

Yang felt her stomach drop and her smile wavered for only a moment. Johanna didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied cracking her knuckles. “You’ve sure got some confidence.”

“I’ve got a vendetta. You took down Elm, I need to make up for getting beat by her somehow.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Blake,” Yang said automatically, knowing that the words were deadly even as they left her mouth. She watched with mounting horror as Johanna scanned the Bumblebees, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Blake’s number 27. 

“Really now?” Johanna muttered, cracking her knuckles again. 

That wouldn’t do. Yang could deal with someone targeting Blake in a match as a matter of course, it was part of the game, but she refused to be the reason that someone made her their sole focus. Judging by the way that Johanna started to smile coldy, nearly baring her teeth, that was exactly what was on her mind. If Yang’s cocky Deathsticks persona would have let her, she would have let out a heaving sigh as she realized what this meant.

“So, fight on the first drop, huh?”

Suddenly Johanna’s eyes were back on her, a welling hunger within the beige depths. “You’re on, rookie.”

Ah, grapes.

The voices of Port and Oobleck echoed around the arena as Yang finished her warmups. Her arms were shaking, no matter how much she tried to keep up her confident visage. Blake had swung by and tapped her on the shoulder encouragingly, but Yang still felt like puking. This was going to be a whole new kind of match compared to the ones she’s played before. 

“Welcome everyone to another exciting game of Deathsticks!” Port thundered, “Tonight we have a special match up-the Beacon Bumblebees taking on the Happy Huntresses!” The crowd went nuts, thousands upon thousands jumping up and down and screaming for blood. Yang could feel the color flood out of her face just at the sound. Johanna swung by and grinned mercilessly, rolling her neck and flexing. Yang shot her a winning smile, which faded as soon as the opposing Brawler had skated by. 

“It looks like the ref is calling for the match to begin! Our starting lineup features all the faces you’ve come to know and love over this season, and I’m sure they’ll give us a fine game tonight,” Oobleck said as Sun blasted his whistle and the teams assembled in the center. 

Yang found herself paired with Fiona Thyme, the Huntress’ Striker. The tiny woman beamed up at Yang as she approached, but the smile didn’t hide the keen, smug look in her eyes. “Hey, no hard feelings when Johanna knocks you out, right?” she asked and Yang’s grip around her deathstick tightened. She had to come up with something fast, something to shoot back, but her mind was failing her. Across the way it didn’t look like Johanna was having the same trouble with Blake. The two were deep in conversation, Johanna leaned over Blake like a toppling tower.

“Just try not to get too upset when I win,” Yang muttered. It was the best she could come up with. Her guts felt like they had curled up into a ball and her heart was pounding so hard it might burst from her chest.

The ball dropped.

Immediately Johanna stood up to her full height and threw her deathstick to the side, locking eyes with Yang. The crowd erupted into cheers at the sight, the ground quaking beneath their feet. Yang gently placed her deathstick down and reached up to undo her helmet. Johanna followed suit. The moment that Yang’s helmet was off, she ran a hand through her hair and let the golden locks sing as they cascaded downwards. The crowd loved it, someone in the far corner starting up a chant of Yang’s name which soon spread throughout the crowd. Johanna narrowed her eyes at the sound and settled into a fighting stance. Yang raised her fists and waited for the signal to begin.

There were rules, etiquette, to fights between Brawlers. First, there were no deathsticks allowed. That was obvious, this was a contest of brute strength and fighting skill, not who could swing a stick harder. Secondly, helmets had to be removed. You didn’t want your opponent to break their hand on your helmet, it was just rude. Thirdly, and only observed during the most personal of fights, Brawlers could remove their skates and fight on foot. It was the only time that a player was allowed to remove their skates in the arena. When the skates were taken off, everyone knew the fight was serious. 

Sun sighed and raised his whistle to his lips, muttering a quiet, “Fucking hell, you two,” then he let loose another whistle blast.

The crowd roared as the two Brawlers charged one another. Yang could hear Blake cheer her name from the sideline of the fight and Fiona cheering for Johanna. 

The green haired Brawler swung wide with a right hook, Yang ducking out of the way and returning with a jab. Johanna smacked her fist away with a laugh, and retaliated with a wild swing for Yang’s jaw. The two went back and forth, jabs, crosses, hooks, and all other kinds of punches thrown at one another as the crowd egged them on. It was a proper bloodsport now. 

Eventually one of Johanna’s jabs made its way through Yang’s defenses, delivering a solid blow to her cheek. Yang yowled in pain and recoiled, one arm frantically trying to cover her face while the other threw aside another jab. With a roar, Yang charged back in, feinting high and the delivering two thunderous body blows. Johanna grunted in pain, her eyes popping forwards as she was forced backwards. She tried to block low, but Yang went high, slamming her in the jaw with a left cross.

The Huntress fell back a hair and shook her head, snarling. There was a break in the fighting, a chance to catch their breath and reassess. The pair circled slowly, sizing one another up. Then Johanna rushed forwards and swung heavily, a powerful right hook that was just a hair off balance. Yang’s eyes went wide and she turned into the blow, catching Johanna’s arm. With a mighty roar Yang threw the green haired giant across her hip and to the ground. She landed with a crash and began to roll to her feet, but Yang was already on her. 

Yang grabbed her jersey with one hand and raised the other in a threatening fist. Johanna balked. This wasn’t how Brawler fights usually went. Most didn’t stop until at least one of the competitors was unconscious or hospitalized. There was a long, tense silence as the two Brawlers glowered at one another, then Johanna reached up and tapped Yang’s arm twice. She had tapped out, she was done. 

Yang heaved a sigh of relief and offered a hand to Johanna, helping her to her feet. The helping hand turned into a handshake and the arena was filled with cheers both joyous and disappointed. “Where’d you learn that move?” Johanna asked as she got her balance back. Yang shrugged and smiled, the confidence entirely real

“I have a good trainer,”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Neopolitan,” Yang said and Johanna’s eyes shot open like she’d been electrocuted. She stared in disbelief for a moment, then shook her head ruefully.

“You should’ve told me that. Gods, no wonder you won,” Johanna said with a laugh as the two Brawlers skated back to the center of the arena. Yang let out a sigh of relief, all the feelings of trepidation and worry abated. The fight was over, now all she had to do was help the team win the match. Yang felt much more comfortable with that. 

“Well!” Oobleck shouted, “I’ve never seen a fight quite like that one. It looks like Johanna Greenleaf has given up!”

“Indeed! But what will this mean for the match? Will she still play? Will the Huntresses need to send in a replacement?” 

Johanna wasn’t listening to the announcers. Instead she wrapped an arm around Yang’s shoulders and held up the blonde Brawler’s fist in victory. “That was a good fight, kid,” she yelled, spinning the pair around so they could be seen by everyone. Yang nodded breathlessly and let herself be moved. In the spin she could see her teammates. Weiss was in the dugout, watching with veiled interest, next to Penny who was chattering excitedly. Winter had a small smile, a real one, and gave Yang a subtle nod. Nora was jumping up and down in the goal until her skates slipped out from under her and she came crashing down on the tile. She continued cheering on the ground. Blake smiled softly, and rubbed her cheek in solidarity. Yang smiled sheepishly and mouthed,

“I’m fine,”

Blake relaxed at the sight and her smile only grew. 

Johanna, ever the honorable competitor, stepped out for the rest of the match. With her gone, Yang could focus on protecting Blake, and protect her she did. Not one of the Huntresses got within two feet of the Bees’ best Striker, at least not without Yang tossing them aside like dirty laundry. The Bumblebees won the match at a three point lead and soon the team was deep in the afterparty.

Blake and Yang, like all the times before, took a corner table and watched the rest of the team make fools of themselves. Nora was dancing on a table, her fifth beer in hand, while Penny cheered her on. Weiss was busy explaining the finer parts of Vale cuisine to the bartender, who looked like they were about to go on a long and well deserved break. The real entertainment tonight was Winter. She was sitting across from Robyn Hill, who had Fiona Thyme tucked gently under her arm. From their position in the bar, Blake and Yang could just overhear the conversation.

“C’mon, Schnee. Live a little,” Robyn said, “Who knows when we’ll see each other next?”

Winter flushed red and took a long drink of her cider before responding. “It’s improper. Two coaches shouldn’t have...that kind of relationship. And besides, you and Fiona are happy together, I wouldn’t want to risk that.”

“I don’t mind,” Fiona said, reaching a hand out and grasping onto Winter’s free hand. “I suggested it to Robyn, anyway.”

“You-you did?” Winter asked, her mouth falling open. Blake snorted into her drink, grabbing the coach’s attention. 

“Yang, please,” Blake said, throwing on a huge smile, “don’t tell that kind of joke while I’m drinking!”

“Oh, babe, it couldn’t wait,” Yang replied, throwing an arm around Blake. The stilted cadence of her voice even sounded fake to Yang herself. An actress she was not. Regardless, the ploy worked as Winter turned back to Robyn and Fiona, her players forgotten. Yang leaned down and whispered into Blake’s ear, “Ten Lien says she doesn’t take the deal.”

Blake shook her head in exasperation. “That’s just disrespectful, betting on something like this. You’re on.”

Robyn was speaking again, and the pair did their best to listen in without arousing suspicion. “..you like, I can invite May over. Or Johanna, if you’d prefer.”

Blake and Yang shared a look. Now this was surprising. 

Winter had gone from red to gaunt in an instant. “So...so you four are all…” her words trailed off, and she was forced to resort to rolling her neck in a jerky manner. “You know.”

“We’re all  _ very _ happy huntresses,” Robyn replied and Fiona giggled behind one hand. Robyn reached out and stroked Winter’s cheek. The coach instinctually leaned into the touch, resting her head on Robyn’s hand. “So what do you say?”

Winter suddenly snapped back upright and stood, nearly throwing the table aside as she did so. “I say that I need to think this over. Miss Hill, Miss Thyme, it’s been lovely.” With that she stormed for the door, hiding her blush behind one hand. Robyn and Fiona snickered to one another before settling into their seats to relax.

“Oh gods,” Blake said, “We weren’t that bad, were we?” 

“Well, you weren’t. I might have been,” Yang said before taking a sip of her beer. “I was barely able to stand when you grabbed my hips the first day of practice.”

“I didn’t grab your hips, I politely asked for permission to get you into place,” Blake protested. She leaned towards Yang and nipped lightly at her neck, causing the blonde to shiver. “If I wanted to grab your hips, you can bet your ass you’d know.”

“Oh? Is now one of those times?” Yang asked, angling her head to allow Blake to lightly bite at more of her neck.

“Later,” Blake said and leaned back. “Nora’s about to start a new song.” Yang looked up to see Nora assembling her drunken chorus and felt just the right amount of tipsy to join in when they started to sing. After a few bars Blake joined as well and soon the entire bar was full of halting, drunken singing.

As far as Yang was concerned, this was better entertainment than Deathsticks would ever be. The team roared out the lyrics and stomped their feet in time with the music. The ground quaked, glasses rolled off tables, food was forgotten as Nora led the team in whatever song was stuck in her head. Fists pounded on tables in lieu of drums and harmonies were hit, missed, and created all at once as the music spread like a wave throughout the bar. Soon the team had the entire establishment singing along. Nora had grabbed Penny’s hands and the two swung around in a laughing, stumbling mess as they danced.

At the second chorus, Blake stood and grabbed Yang’s hands, dragging her to her feet. The two of them started to sway in time with the music, mimicking the dance of their compatriots and adding a few personal touches of their own. Yang had never been much for dancing, too busy with school or work to bother learning much, but tonight it didn’t matter. Tonight was just about having a good time and enjoying the company of their friends. 

As the song wound to a close, Blake and Yang stumbled back to their seats, dizzy and falling over one another. Yang fell into the seat face first, sprawling out and laughing her head off. Blake grabbed her around the waist, helping her readjust, unable to keep from doubling over with laughter. 

“Gods alive,” Yang managed as the two got into their seats, “We shouldn’t have spun around so much,”

“Mhm,” Blake hummed, shifting unsteadily in her chair. “I don’t think I can drink anymore.”

“Probably safer not to. Wish I hadn’t eaten so much after the match,” Yang groaned, sliding down in her seat to stretch out her stomach. The two sat as comfortably they could in wooden chairs with poor padding and waited for the room to stop spinning. “Next time we go out dancing, let’s at least get in a slow song.”

Blake nodded vigorously, then grimaced, one hand clutching her stomach, “That sounds-oh gods-that sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll finally get to see you in a suit.” Yang laughed at that, the world coming to a slow halt as the dizziness from such wild dancing faded.

“Maybe that’s what we can do Sunday. I’ll get a new suit.”

“You must want us to be late to Pyrrha’s.”

“Don’t say that, you haven’t seen me in a suit yet. You might hate it.”

Blake soffed and straightened her posture, letting out a long pent up breath of relief as her own dizziness faded away. “I doubt that.” She opened her mouth to say more when Weiss appeared in front of their table, looking around with a critical eye. After a moment of failing to find what she wanted, she turned to the pair and asked,

“Have you seen Winter?”

Yang gestured towards the door as she sat up, “Yeah, she just left a few minutes ago. Seemed to be a real hurry.”

“She was talking with Robyn and Fiona,” Blake added helpfully, a devious glint in her eyes, “They might know where she was heading.”

Weiss groaned aloud and buried her face in her hands, grumbling curses. After a few moments she looked up, a mask of resignation on her face. “Was Robyn trying to seduce my sister again?”

“Wait, again?” Yang asked, forgetting in a moment that she and Blake were not supposed to have overhead the conversation at all. If Weiss noticed the implication, she didn’t mention it just shaking her head in woeful disbelief.

“Yes, again. Robyn’s been trying to get Winter into bed since they met at Atlas Academy. Now I’m gonna have to listen to Winter go on about how it isn’t proper for coaches to act like that for a week and a half.” Weiss griped, muttering more curses under her breath. “Whatever, I’m going to bed. Night, you two.”

Blake and Yang wished her good night and Weiss marched out of the bar for the hotel. The moment she was gone the couple descended into unstoppable giggling. These Deathsticks players, Yang thought to herself, were a circus unto themselves. 

The next day as the team loaded back up into the airship, Yang wrapped an orange scarf tightly around her neck to hide the series of hickeys Blake had left behind. Penny gasped as she saw it, eyes bright with admiration. “Yang, that’s a lovely scarf!”

Yang smiled broadly, hiding her bashfulness behind the simulacra of pride. “Thanks Penny! It was a gift from Blake.” Blake had to look away, eyes wide with amusement and stifling a heaving laugh with both hands.

“You are very welcome. It’s strange, it seems like scarves are in style today. Even the coach is wearing one!” Penny said before she had to keep moving to let the line of people onto the airship. Blake’s head snapped back up and she locked eyes with Yang.

“You don’t think that she...she couldn’t have,” Yang said. Both of them sat up straighter, straining to find Winter in the crowded airship. She was hidden in her personal section, but between the seats the Yang could see that she had a thick grey scarf wrapped around her neck and her hair was just a touch out of place.

“You owe me ten Lien,” Blake said triumphantly and Yang groaned, reaching into her pocket to grab the money. It didn’t really matter, Yang and Blake had swapped the same ten Lien back and forth so many times over the past few months the bill had nearly disintegrated. 

“So, what, does that make Winter a Happy Huntress now?” Yang asked.

“A  _ very _ Happy Huntress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joanna Greenleaf: Putting the 'death' in Deathsticks since she joined the league.  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang finally gets a new suit and the Bees go to visit Blake's old friend Pyrrha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst at the end of this chapter!  
> Bit of a warning as well, for descriptions of a bad panic attack. If that's not your bag, steer clear.

Maiden’s Wardrobe was a premier boutique in Vale, catering to the fashion sense of the rich and powerful while maintaining a flair for the styles of the common people. There was something for everyone in Maiden’s Wardrobe, from gowns for high class balls to suits for business meetings. They offered, as the tagline said, ‘A perfect fit, for a perfect you’.

Yang knew what that really meant was that the clothes would be very expensive, and most people would probably only wear them once or twice a year. 

She perused the rack of pre-made suits with mild interest. They were all excellent choices, fine stitching by some of the best known brands and stylists, but none of them caught her eye. She could feel Blake watching with veiled excitement, following behind her. If she was any more open with her emotions, Yang fancied that she would be vibrating with anticipation. 

It all felt like a bit much to Yang. She knew that she looked good in suits, otherwise she wouldn’t bother wearing them, but a small part of her felt that she had built the reveal up a bit too much. On top of that, the price tags were certainly too much with most of the suits ranging from three to fifteen thousand Lien. And that was without fitted tailoring. Yang thumbed through a few more of them, disappointment welling in her chest. It would be a letdown, both for her and Blake, to come home with nothing. On the other hand, it would be a bigger letdown if Yang didn’t have any money left to pay off her college debt. 

“They don’t have, like, a clearance rack or anything do they?” Yang asked quietly, passing over another suit. She could hear Blake shake her head from the way her earrings jangled as they moved. 

“Afraid not, babe. We can look somewhere else if you want.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Yang replied, wincing as she saw another price tag, “I’ll find something.” The chances of actually finding something that both looked good and wouldn’t bankrupt her were few and far between. She moved to the next rack over, hoping to find something that was more reasonable. No dice, it seemed, the rack only holding even more expensive choices. Yang fought back to urge to sigh heavily, opting to run a hand through her hair instead. There had to be something that would work.

“Oh!” Blake said, startled by something, “Hello Fria.” Yang turned to see Blake respectfully watching a frail old woman with a shock of white hair and pale blue eyes. She smiled kindly at Blake, like a grandmother seeing her favorite grandchild.

“Well, hello Blake,” she said softly, “How are you today?” 

“I’m very well, thank you,” Blake replied, smiling back quietly, then looked at Yang. “Oh, Fria, this is Yang, my girlfriend.”

Yang extended a hand slowly, making sure that her grip would be gentle. Fria was so thin that Yang was afraid she might break if prodded too hard. “Hi Fria. I’m Yang.”

Fria studied her hand for a moment, the same soft smile. She seemed to be thinking, connecting things in her mind, then reached out to clutch Yang’s hand with both of her own. “Yang...Blake’s girlfriend...Oh, you must be the reason she came in here a few weeks ago.”

“Uh, she did?” Yang asked, shooting Blake a look. Blake looked away bashfully, a smile not far from her lips.

“Oh yes,” Fria said, “She picked out a wonderful dress, black with silver trimming. She was a vision when it was finished.”

“Y-yeah, she was,” Yang stammered, “You have a good memory.”

“Oh, not really,” Fria said, but when she met Yang’s eye there was a fierce intelligence resting there, “But I certainly remember that day. I’ve never seen Blake so nervous before, I thought she was going to faint.”

“Nervous?” Yang muttered, trying to catch Blake’s eye. Blake had suddenly found the rack of suits incredibly interesting.

Fria nodded slowly, the kind smile spreading further as she remembered. “Terribly nervous. But happy too. The happiest I could remember her being. She used to come in here all the time, you know, look over the dresses and sigh.” Blake flushed a deep red, and took to reading the same price tag over and over. “But when she came in that day, I knew something was different. She could barely stand still. Someone was making her happy, was...healing her, I think.” Fria cocked her head to the side and gazed up at Yang for a long moment. “Is that someone you?”

Yang felt the old woman’s grip tighten on her hand and a lance of giddy anxiety pierced her chest. “I, well I hope so. I want to be that someone.” She didn’t know how Fria pried the words from her so easily. They were words reserved for Blake, but here she was spilling her guts to a shopkeeper. “I would love to be that someone.”

Fria narrowed her eyes as Yang spoke, then nodded knowingly as she finished. “That’s what I thought.” There was a long moment of silence, and Blake looked back, meeting Yang’s eyes. Yang could see the excitement, the hesitation of being found out but having no reservations that the secret was in the open. “So you’re looking for a suit? Which one would you like?”

“Oh, I don’t know yet. Everything’s a bit,” Yang stumbled, searching for the right way to say expensive without coming across as rude, “high class compared to what I’m used to.”

Fria leaned back and regarded Yang for a moment, looking her over from top to bottom. She pursed her lips for a moment, then said, “I have just the thing for you,” and suddenly bustled away with speed that belied her aged form. Yang reached out a hand to stop her, but by then she was gone. 

Lowering her hand to her side, Yang met Blake’s eye again. “So, uh, you got the dress from here?” Of course Blake had been a vision in that dress, she could wear rags under a potato sack and make it look phenomenal. 

Blake smiled softly and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I wanted to look good.”

“Babe, you looked like the most beautiful woman in the world,” Yang said and took a step closer so that they were only a hair’s breadth away, “You still do.” Blake hummed softly and nuzzled her head against Yang’s chest. They stayed there for a time, content in each other’s presence, until Fria came back with a suit in her arms. 

“Here we are, dear. It will look lovely on you.” The suit was a simple thing, all told, black jacket and pants, over a lilac shirt with a yellow tie. As if sensing Yang’s hesitation before she even began to speak it, Fria added, “Just try it on, at least.” 

Yang nodded slowly and took the series of hangers. She stepped into the changing room, looking back to see Fria and Blake chatting quietly. Once inside, she stripped down and began to dress back up. The suit was comfortable, far more than anything that Yang had borrowed from her dad. In fact, she reflected as she straightened the tie, it felt perfect, as if it were custom made for her. The jacket went on last and Yang took a long look in the mirror. She had thought that she looked good in suits before, but now she looked fantastic. Even she had to admit that the suit was incredible, the entire ensemble complimenting everything that she appreciated about herself and masking anything she didn’t. She straightened her tie one more time, out of nerves more than necessity, and stepped out of the changing room.

Blake’s jaw dropped. A fierce blush appeared in her cheeks and Yang could have sworn that she started to sweat. Fria clapped her hands lightly, saying, “Now just one more thing.” She stepped forwards and produced a belladonna flower as if from nothing, gently slotting it into Yang’s breast pocket. “Perfect.” If it were possible for Blake to get any redder, she would have. One hand covered her mouth and the other was clutching onto her pant leg with white knuckles. Yang was so lost staring at her that she almost didn’t hear Fria say, “You can have that one, dear. No charge.”

“What?” Yang whipped around to stare at Fria in shock, “No, you can’t do that. How much?”

Fria put a single finger up to Yang’s lips, silencing any protest. “For someone as good as you, nothing.” Then she stepped away and vanished deeper into the boutique. Yang stared at the spot she had occupied a moment before, aghast, then turned to look at Blake.

“So, uh, what do you think?” she asked.

Blake sidled up next to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I think you must really want us to be late to Pyrrha’s.”

They were only a few minutes late to Pyrrha’s house, due in no small amount to Yang telling the cab driver to step on the gas. It would have been rude to be tardy the first time she met someone, after all. The suburbs outside Vale were something that Yang had never thought she’d ever visit. They were too cookie cutter perfect for her liking, manicured lawns and white picket fences. Pyrrha’s house was not that, not that at all.

The house was a single story affair, though Blake said it stretched back a ways, with a lightly angled ramp leading from the curb up to the front door. There were large windows all around the outside of the house and the door was much wider than Yang had expected. Blake knocked lightly, then smoothed over her shirt in anticipation. 

The door swung open, revealing a tall, friendly looking man with a mop of blonde hair. Blake smiled warmly at him and said, “Hello Jaune!” The man broke into a smile and swung the door open all the way.

“Blake! It’s so good to see you again,” he said, gesturing for them to enter. Yang stuck out a hand as she walked through the door, which Jaune shook firmly.

“Hey, I’m Yang.”

“I’m Jaune, Pyrrha’s husband,” the man named Jaune replied before closing the door behind them.

The interior of the home was awash with warm colors and open archways leading from room to room. Knicknacks covered the shelves and tables, and all the furniture was fluffy and comfortable. Jaune swept by the pair as they looked around, turning a corner into the kitchen and cracking open the fridge.

“Does anyone want something to drink? We have iced tea, soda, juice. I can boil some water if you like.”

“Would you mind?” Blake asked, and Jaune waved in acknowledgement before turning to his task. Blake took Yang’s hand and led her deeper into the house and into the living room. “Pyrrha?” Blake called out. Yang took a moment to look around the room. It was a large, open space with plenty of room between the furniture and walls. There was a small fireplace in the center, the mantle covered in pictures. Upon closer inspection, Yang could see that some of the pictures were of Jaune, leaning over breakfast at the dining room table, another was of an older woman with red hair and beautiful green eyes, and at least three pictures of Blake with her arms around another red haired woman, both in their Deathsticks uniforms. A view from the back revealed her to be number 19, Pyrrha Nikos.

“Blake!” someone said, a voice that was both kind and disarmingly polite, “How are you?” Yang looked back over to see the same woman from the pictures, Pyrrha Nikos, come into the room in a wheelchair. She was so gorgeous, so stunningly beautiful, that Yang didn’t even have to question why Blake warned her not to fall for the Mistralian siren. Pyrrha held out her arms and Blake ran over to hug her, both women smiling broadly. As Blake held her tight, Pyrrha looked over Blake’s shoulder and said, “And you must be Yang?”

“That’s me,” Yang said, walking up and shaking Pyrrha’s hand. The redhead nodded sagely, then gestured for the two to sit. 

“Blake’s told me a lot about you,” Pyrrha said, “I couldn’t believe it when she said you two were dating.”

“Sometimes I can’t either,” Yang said, wrapping an arm around Blake’s shoulders. “Honestly it feels like a dream sometimes.” 

“Well I’m glad that it isn’t. Otherwise where would I sleep?” Blake teased Yang lightly, pinching her shoulder. Yang grumbled good naturedly and Pyrrha smiled at their interaction. 

“You two seem to be good for each other,” she said, nodding solemnly, “But I’m sure you’ve heard that plenty. So what’s new with the team? With you?”

“Oh, it’s the usual stuff. Nora can’t keep still, Penny’s innocent as ever, and Weiss is...well she’s Weiss.” Blake said and Pyrrha laughed, a faraway twinkle in her eye. 

“Oh, yes, I remember. I’ve been watching the matches every week. The team looks like they’re doing better than ever.” 

“We’re doing well,” Blake said as though afraid of bragging too much, “We’ve got some good people. Everyone’s really giving it their all.” 

“Especially your new Brawler, I see,” Pyrrha said, casting a quick glance at Yang, “I don’t think anyone’s laid a finger on you all season, Blake.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it!” Blake protested, but snuggled ever so slightly closer to Yang. She looked up at the blonde with a proud smile, and Yang blushed a light red. She wasn’t used to getting so many compliments at once.

“It’s all the team, really,” she said, “Without them, I wouldn’t be doing nearly as well.” Pyrrha eyes sparkled knowingly, 

“Of course. It’s hard to do anything well alone.” Yang looked down at Blake out of the corner of her eye and smiled.

“Yeah, it really is.”

The sound of breaking plates and shattered mugs came from the kitchen, along with the accompanying grumble of “Oh, gods damn it.” 

“I’ll go help,” Blake said, excusing herself to go help clean up, leaving just Yang and Pyrrha in the living room. There was a long moment of silence, then Yang asked,

“So, you and Jaune. How’d you meet?”

Pyrrha smiled again and rested her chin in one hand as she thought back. “Oh, it was a while ago now. He used to be my neighbor, lived across the street. He was so sweet, offering to help me around the house and help take care of chores. I didn’t really need his help, I’d been living on my own for a while at that point, but he was so earnest that I had to let him do something. It was good that I did, I think. After I got my injury and my mother had to come help me recuperate he was nothing but kind to us. Honestly, I don’t know how well we would’ve managed if he hadn’t offered to help.”

“So he helped you adjust?” Yang asked and Pyrrha shrugged.

“For lack of a better term. We could’ve handled all the physical things, but sometimes I just needed someone around that wasn’t my mother. I needed someone to rely on, something that I made myself. Eventually, it became something more. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, yeah it does,” Yang replied, casting a small glance at the kitchen. Blake and Jaune were busy cleaning up the mess of shattered mugs and spilled tea. “I’m glad that you’re doing well.”

“Thank you, Yang,” Pyrrha said, “I’m glad that the team finally found someone to replace me. You heard that they went through quite a few Brawlers before you, right?”

“I heard rumors, sure, but I didn’t know how many there were.”

“More than I think Winter is willing to admit. Honestly I was a bit skeptical of you when you first showed up against the Artisans, but then you took down Elm. Even Cinder struggles with her.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Blake,” Yang said and Pyrrha’s eyes twinkled.

“That was an excellent maneuver you two pulled off. I’m jealous that I didn’t think of it. Although, you’ve been making quick work of the other Brawlers anyway, your match against the Romans was divine.”

“Oh, well, that was all Blake, really. She did the heavy lifting.”

“You’re no slouch yourself, Yang. You’ve already taken out Johanna and Elm, they were some of the toughest Brawlers in the league.”

Yang blushed again at the compliments, running a hand through her hair. “Well thanks, Pyrrha.”

“Honestly, I think you have a good chance at being crowned champions this season. At least since Cinder’s gone.” Yang wanted to sink into the couch before the flurry of compliments inflated her head and she floated away. “Although I was sad that she got suspended. She’s a good player.”

“But didn’t she make you retire?” Yang asked, leaning into the couch. Blake and Jaune had finished cleaning up and were chatting as a new kettle boiled. 

Pyrrha nodded slowly and met Yang’s eyes, her expression kind as ever and sharp as iron. “She did, but she was nothing but lovely afterwards. She came to visit me in the hospital,” The redhead laughed softly, “Oh, she was so apologetic I thought I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Really?” Yang asked, fighting to keep from sounding too shocked. This was Cinder Fall, the most dangerous Brawler in the league. She had attacked someone during halftime, and every player clammed up at the mention of her name. She certainly didn’t sound like someone who had the capacity to be apologetic.

“I know how she presents herself, but really she’s sweet as can be,” Pyrrha continued, “She even offered to pay for the hospital bills! But I couldn’t let her, that would’ve been too much.”

“So you’re saying that the Cinder Fall that everyone sees on tv is...what? A disguise?”

“A mask, more like. I mean, every player has one don’t they? Blake isn’t nearly as confident out of the arena as inside of it, you of all people should know that.”

“Okay,” Yang said slowly, chewing the information, “But what about Elm?”

“Elm is...an exception,” Pyrrha said after a moment’s pause. The kettle whistled in the kitchen and soon they were joined by Blake and Jaune, bearing mugs of tea. Pyrrha gratefully accepted hers from Jaune and took a deep sip. “Thank you, Jaune. I was just telling Yang about how lovely Cinder is.”

“Oh, she’s a peach,” Jaune said, nodding affirmatively, “One of the best people I’ve ever met.” Yang looked over at Blake, who seemed nonplussed by the discussion. “Honestly, you should talk to her outside of a match.”

“Maybe one day,” Blake replied, “After the season’s over.”

“Of course. So, Yang, how did you get involved with the team?” 

The rest of the day passed by amicably, with plenty of tea and childhood stories. By the end of it Yang got a warm hug from Pyrrha and a box of tea from Jaune. She tried to refuse the gift, but Blake led her away from the door and towards a waiting cab. “He’s always like that,” she said, “They both are, giving to a fault.”

“Selfless kind of way to live,” Yang agreed, tucking the box of tea under her arm. The two climbed into the cab and began to head home, already falling asleep before they made it to the gates. With warm tea in their bellies and good conversation in their hearts, they slept peacefully.

The win over the Huntresses was a spark to tinder for the Bumblebees. The next day at practice it was all anyone could talk about and the entire team was training harder and faster, joking rather than screaming when someone would make a mistake. It felt like a shroud had lifted off of them and the sun could finally shine down all the clearer. The people they passed in the street, the shopkeepers, and waiters, even Klein seemed to be happy to hear the news. Not even Winter could keep the smile from her face when she gave the team notes about the match.

Most of all, Blake was ecstatic. She joked with the other team members, helped them to their feet when they fell, and offered advice when they asked. It made Yang’s heart feel close to bursting when she saw her laughing and poking fun at Nora and Penny.

Yang and Weiss found themselves skating around the rink after a play, both watching Blake lean on the goal and share a joke with Nora. Weiss pursed her lips as she looked on. “You two seem to be doing well.”

Yang nodded, blonde hair bobbing as she did so. “Yeah, we’ve been playing a lot better recently.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Weiss muttered, taking a second to adjust her shoulder pads.

“I know,” Yang said, letting out a long, low breath. “Have I proven myself to you yet?”

“Not yet,” Weiss said, spinning around and staring Yang down. “What did you do?”

“We’ve talked some things out.”

“Her things?” Weiss asked, looking up sharply, “Or your things?”

Yang tsked and stared at Weiss, exasperated, “What do you care? Why are you so invested in this?”

Weiss raised a finger to shout at Yang, so like Winter that for a moment Yang was confused which one she was speaking with, but then the finger dropped and Weiss let out a heaving sigh. “I...can we stop for a second?” Yang nodded and the pair came to a halt in the center of the arena. Weiss rubbed the back of her head awkwardly for a moment, not meeting Yang’s eyes. “It’s because I’ve been where she is. Not exactly the same, you understand, but close.”

“What?” Yang asked, dread seeping into her body, “What happened?”

“My father,” Weiss hissed, “was a bastard. I can’t tell you how much I hate him. He didn’t do the same kind of things to me that, well the things that I’ve heard happened to Blake. He was much subtler about it. When I got away from that I ran to Winter. If it wasn’t for her, I certainly wouldn't be here right now.” Weiss leaned onto her deathstick heavily, mumbling to herself. “I just want to make sure that she doesn’t wind up like I did.”

“You...you were…”

“Destroyed.”

“What-who-”

“I’m not telling you. I don’t owe you that,” Weiss growled. She put on an angry face, but Yang had spent most of her life looking after Ruby. She could recognize a scared little girl when she saw one. A warm feeling of comforting care flooded her system, but she resisted the urge to wrap Weiss up in a hug. Weiss didn’t need that, not from her. How was it that all of these wonderful people were so badly hurt? What kind of horrible people would do such terrible things to them? Yang’s mind immediately flew back to Atlas, to the death glare that Weiss had shot the ref.

“It-and you don’t have to tell me-but it wasn’t that ref, Sun, was it?”

Weiss’ face broke slightly and a sharp laugh tore its way out of her throat. “No, gods no. He’s just an asshole.” She thought for a moment, then added, “He was also supposed to be the mixologist at your party.”

“Him?” Yang asked, aghast. Weiss laughed again and this time the laugh was softer, more natural, more like the prim and proper laugh that she always had.

“He’s trained and he was available. I thought it was a shoe in.”

“Then where was he?”

Weiss tutted and folded her arms across her chest. “Probably off galavanting with his boyfriend. I swear, they’re as bad as you and Blake.”

“Now hang on, what’s that supposed to mean?” Yang asked, instinctively holding out an arm as Blake came sailing in for a hug and to plant a kiss on Yang’s cheek. Weiss scoffed and turned away.

“You know what I mean,” she said and started to skate away. Blake leaned into Yang’s side and looked up from where her head rested on her partner’s shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?”

Yang couldn’t just say ‘you’ without immediately going into the heavy details. She felt dirty discussing Blake behind her back, but the middle of practice wasn’t the place for a confession. “Oh, you know. Strategy, mostly.” The lie tasted like dirt in her mouth, but Blake shrugged and said,

“I hope it was productive.”

Yang nodded gratefully, then a spear of doubt pierced her chest.

This would be it, the reason Blake would leave. This lie was so huge, so monumental in its complexity that it could shatter any promise. Yang tried to fight down the anxiety but it was a losing battle, like trying to hold back a flash flood with a bucket. “B-Blake,” she managed, then her chest hurt like she’d been kicked by a horse and she collapsed to one knee, her breaths ragged and heavy. Immediately Blake was kneeling by her side rubbing her back and holding her close, whispering over and over that she was okay, she was safe, Blake was there, she was safe. The team started to gather around, looking on in worry and Yang could just barely hear Blake say, 

“She’s having a panic attack, just give her some space,” 

There was a shuffling of feet, then the world tilted sideways and Yang felt herself falling. Someone screamed, but Yang couldn’t tell who. The last thing she remembered was looking up to see Weiss staring at her, hands covering her mouth, absolutely horrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake has an obsession with seeing Yang in that suit.  
> Some more angst in the next chapter, but also fluff!  
> Comments are always appreciated!  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang explains the nature of her recent panic attack and Blake has an important conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for needles in the first part of this chapter!

Something beeped. Yang moaned and suddenly she could feel things again. There was something taped to her arm...a tube, maybe? The other arm had...a needle in it, it felt like. Several needles, actually, Yang mused as she slowly opened her eyes and looked around. 

Fluorescent lights burned overhead, bathing the sterilized room in a pale, emotionless glow. The ceiling was paneled with cheap styrofoam and there was a wooden door in the corner. Yang looked to the right to see an EKG machine and it clicked.

A hospital. She was in a hospital. 

She looked around a bit more. The room was white and sterile, with Yang’s bed in the middle and the machines keeping track of her on the right. Her breaths were steady and low, a result of whatever the needles were putting into her body. Her chest hurt. It felt like someone had decided to play a drum solo on her ribs. 

Yang blinked once, slowly, before remembering the arena, the conversation, the lie.

“Blake?” she mumbled looking around slowly, finally looking to her left. Blake was curled up across two plastic chairs. She couldn’t have been comfortable and her face was set in a grimace as she jerked in her sleep. “Blake?” Yang said again, louder this time. Blake’s ears twitched and her eyes popped open immediately, her gaze locking with Yang’s. She let out a strangled cry and leapt to her feet, flying forwards to envelop Yang in a hug. 

“Yang! Yang, I’m here. I’m here. You’re safe. Oh gods, I was so worried. I thought...oh gods,” she whispered into Yang’s ear and Yang could feel her heavy, relieved breaths on her neck. 

“Blake,” Yang whispered, reaching up and stroking her cheek, “What...what happened?” Blake leaned into her touch and now Yang got a good look at her face. Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy and discolored. Fresh tears had begun to well in her eyes. Yang reached up and wiped away a single fat teardrop, then cupped Blake’s cheek. “I’m okay. I’m here, baby. I’m okay.”

Blake buried her face into Yang’s neck again. The door opened and a familiar mop of red tinged hair appeared in the gap. 

“Yang!” Ruby screamed and dove from the door onto the bed. She clambered up until she could drape herself across her sister. “You’re okay!” Yang wrapped her free arm around Ruby and held her close, shuddering breaths rocking the bed. “We came as soon as we got the call, dad dropped everything.”

“Oh,” Yang muttered, thoughts still a bit hazy from her drug fueled slumber, “Did you remember to turn off the oven?” Ruby choked out a laugh before hugging her sister tighter.

“Of course I did, Yang. I’m not a kid anymore.” 

Yang reached up and ruffled her hair which made Ruby grumble unhappily and Blake laughed. Yang looked between the two of them for a moment, then said, “Oh! Blake, this is Ruby, my sister. Ruby, this is Blake.”

Blake extended a hand towards Ruby, but Ruby leapt towards her and wrapped her up in a hug. Blake yelped as it happened, automatically returning the hug. “Thank you Blake! Thank you so godsdammed much,” Ruby sobbed into Blake’s shoulder. Yang met Blake’s eyes. They were confused but happy, and so full of a deep, welling love that Yang almost found herself drowning in them. 

“Yeah. Thank you Blake,” Tai said from the doorway as he entered. He looked over and focused his gaze on Yang, his expression a mixture of relief that she was awake and despair at the sight of his daughter in a hospital bed. “She called us, you know. Blake did.”

Yang looked over at Blake, who was trying to hide her face in Yang’s hair. “I didn’t know what else to do,” Blake murmured, “Someone shoved your phone in my hands and I just remembered talking to Ruby. I didn’t want them to hear it from Winter, because you know how she is.”

“She’d probably say I was a casualty of war,” Yang snorted and Blake laughed sharply, letting her tears fall onto Yang’s chest. Tai walked up to the other side of the bed and placed a hand on Yang’s shoulder, not saying anything. 

Yang didn’t know how long they stayed there, holding one another and crying. All she knew was that eventually everyone was all cried out. The door creaked open and a doctor entered the room. She surveyed the scene for a moment, then looked over at Tai.

“Is this a bad time?”

Tai looked over the forms of Yang, Blake, and Ruby, and nodded. The doctor nodded curtly and excused herself, but it was enough of an interruption that Ruby sat up and scooted back to the end of the bed. Blake slid a chair over so she could keep holding Yang. It was good that she did, because Yang didn’t feel like she was able to sit up on her own. Tai leaned against the wall and shook his head ruefully. “I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances, Blake.”

“Me too,” Blake said, “Yang talks about you two all the time. I was hoping to meet you after a match, or maybe go to Patch sometime. Yang said she’d take me to try all the seafood.”

“What? I didn’t say that,” Yang said, furrowing her brow. Blake just laughed and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“But you wanted to, right? That first night we went out for dinner.”

Yang felt her cheeks flush. “I mean, yeah I did but you were so nervous that I didn’t think it was a good idea.” Blake laughed again and settled in to lean against Yang.

“That was smart,” she said, resting her head on Yang’s shoulder, “Gods, I’m so lucky to have found you.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Tai cut in, dragging Yang and Blake back to the present, “But I think we should talk about...what happened.”

“What did happen?” Yang asked, “I just remember my chest hurting and then I heard you, Blake, and then I saw Weiss and then I was here. Did I pass out?”

Yang felt Blake’s nod and her grip around Yang’s arm tightened. “You did. You were talking with Weiss and then I came over and then you just-you just-gods, Yang I was so scared.”

“Hey, I’m okay,” Yang said, turning to plant a kiss on Blake’s head, “No need to be scared.”

“The doctor said you had a panic attack, Yang, a bad one,” Tai said slowly, “They wanted to know if you’d had any before.”

Yang nodded seriously and met Tai’s firm gaze with one of her own, “I have, yeah. A few times over the past couple months, but nothing like that. I haven’t been this bad since…” the words trailed off. Tai knew what she meant.

She hadn’t been that bad since Summer.

“I told them about that,” Tai muttered. Blake looked up at Yang, the sudden shift pushing her weight off Yang a touch.

“Since when? This has happened before?”

Tai caught Yang’s gaze again, asking a silent ‘You haven’t told her?’ No, she hadn’t. She hadn’t even told Ruby until a few years ago. “Yeah. It has.”

Blake wrapped her arms around Yang and held her tight. Yang melted into her embrace, an embrace that spoke of comfort and safety. “Yang,” Blake said softly, “What happened?”

There was a long silence as Yang looked at her family. Tai was still leaned against the wall, his gaze steady and concern etched into his face. His wrinkles were showing. Ruby was watching with measured interest, perched on the end of the bed, blankets clutched between white knuckles. And Blake...oh, Blake. She was gazing up at Yang with such tenderness, such care. How was it possible for someone to care so much?

“I was young, a kid. Ruby was still a baby. It was the four of us, me, Rubes, dad, and-and mom. Summer. She wasn't really my mother , not by birth, but she was a mom to me, you know?” Yang began, and Blake’s gaze softened even further.

“You never mentioned your mother before,” she whispered.

Yang nodded, fighting down a gag in her throat. “She died.”

“Oh...Yang,” Blake said again, pressing herself closer and holding Yang all the tighter. 

“I don’t really remember how it happened. I didn’t see it or anything. I just...dad came home late. I knew something was wrong.”

There was a soft sniffle in the corner and Yang looked up to see Tai stiffen his upper lip. His eyes watered, threatening to burst.

“I freaked out. It was kinda like this, like today, except I didn’t wake up for a while.”

“Three days,” Tai muttered and Blake gasped.

Yang grimaced and pushed on. “I couldn’t handle it. So the doctors said my body like...shut down for a while.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t think it was ever gonna happen again. I didn’t want it to happen again. That’s why I never-I never really kept people around. I didn’t want to risk it. I get so attached to people that I can’t...I’ve been left behind by so many people.” She turned to look at Blake, entwined their fingers together. “But then I met you. You were good to me. For me. I didn’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you, Blake.”

“I know, hon,” Blake whispered, leaning in and kissing Yang on the cheek, “I promised I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I know that, and I believe you. But then I talked to Weiss and we were talking about you-”

“About me?” Blake asked quietly, leaning back a hair. Shivers of doubt began to worm their way into Yang’s spine, shooting cold feelers to the tips of her toes.

“Yeah. Weiss said that something bad happened. Before you joined the team. She said that if I hurt you that you would-you would be destroyed. I couldn’t handle it, Blake. I won’t ever hurt you. Just the thought of it, or the thought of you leaving, it...,” Yang gestured to the hospital room, “It did this.”

Blake was silent for a long time. Every passing moment, Yang grew more and more certain that she was about to stand up and leave. She could feel her breaths getting heavier, the beeping from the EKG increased dramatically.

Then Blake said, “I know you won’t hurt me, Yang.” She looked up at Yang and smiled. Gods alive, she smiled so happily, so confidently that it twisted Yang’s heart in ways she didn’t know it was possible to feel. “You’re so much better than what I left behind. So much better than-than him. Than Adam.”

Yang didn’t realize that Tai had collected Ruby and was walking them towards the door. This was between Yang and Blake now.

“Adam?” Yang asked softly, reaching up and stroking a stray lock of hair behind Blake’s ear.

“My ex. He was...awful to me. He hurt me, he hurt me so many times. He kept me away from my parents, from my friends, from everything. And when he got angry he-he would-” Blake stumbled over her words and Yang held her tight. A moment ago she had been the one seeking comfort, now she only hoped that she could give it in return. After several long, halting breaths, Blake continued. “I thought he killed off the part of me that could love. I didn’t feel anything after he got arrested, after I was free. I spent the next year in a hospital and when I got out I just...started doing the first thing that could distract me. That’s what got me here.”

Yang remembered Blake saying that she had started playing Deathsticks after starting a new part of her life. It all made so much more sense now, all the small reflexes, the tension when Yang had asked her on a date the first time, the flinch when someone got too loud. The startled wake up from a knock on the door. “Blake...baby…” Yang whispered, holding the love of her life close to her chest. Blake had been on the team for three years, and two more before that back in Menagerie. And how many years before then had she been hurting? Yang felt the knot in her chest, the protective urge to help this wonderful woman in any way she could. “Baby…” she whispered again. Blake took a moment to rest before she went on.

“But then I met you. You were so different from him. You were comfort, strength, stability, everything I needed. And you never asked anything from me, never demanded anything. You wanted me to be...me. You wanted to love me, all the broken bits and shattered pieces. Gods, I didn’t know it was possible to love like that.”

Yang mouthed her name, the word failing to form. She leaned forwards and caught Blake’s lips on her own, straining the needles and tubes caught in her arms. “I love you Blake,” she whispered into Blake’s lips, “I love you so fucking much.” They kissed again and in that kiss, Yang tried to express her passion, her trust, and her dedication to keeping Blake safe and happy. Blake returned the kiss, a kiss that spoke to the deepness of her love for Yang, a love that would never fail, would never falter. Their love was a bastion against the onrushing horde, a light in the darkness showing the way home.

“I love you too, Yang. I won’t ever leave. I swear.”

“I know, Blake. I know,” Yang said and this time her doubts vanished entirely and a new understanding took hold. Blake had never thought of leaving, not once. They had found each other, needed each other, and forged a connection that would never break. They were water running through a stream, the roots of an ancient oak, a lost ship and the lighthouse, guiding them safely to harbor. As Blake stood up and climbed into the bed next to Yang it was suddenly so clear. They fit together perfectly, like a well worn puzzle, all their broken bits and shattered pieces. They fit together like they were always meant to, and always would.

Yang stayed in the hospital overnight. The doctors ran test after test to see if they could find something wrong, but came up with nothing. The official record, as Yang was told, would simply call it a panic attack. It was too simple and explanation, too easily ignored for what had really happened. It had been a violent physical reaction to the idea of losing Blake, the very concept of losing someone that dear to her, but somehow Yang knew it wouldn’t happen again. Blake had promised to stay, and now Yang believed her with all her heart.

She had never felt closer to Blake. It seemed like the universe was aligning for them, circumstances shifting and changing to allow them to meet, to grow, to love. They were the person the other needed, exactly when they needed to be found.

Taiyang and Ruby came back to the complex with them, with Tai adamantly refusing to leave until he knew that Yang was safe. “It’s my job as a father,” he said, as strictly as he was able, “I can’t just leave.” To sate his appetite for fatherly duties, the rest of the Xiao Long-Rose household was going to stay for dinner. 

Fortunately Blake remained a master in the kitchen, throwing together whatever spare ingredients they had into a delicious stir fry. Tai and Yang, seated at the kitchen island, watched appreciatively for entirely different reasons.

“Where did you learn to cook, Blake?” Tai asked and Blake responded without looking over her shoulder.

“I was on my own for a while and didn’t have much money, so I had to make due,” she said, drizzling sauce over the meat as it sizzled in the wok, “I haven’t poisoned anyone yet, so I guess I’m doing all right.”

Tai laughed and shot Yang a look that said something along the lines of ‘You sure know how to pick ‘em’. Yang rolled her eyes and returned her focus to Blake, watching as she expertly wielded a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a bottle of seasoning in the other. “It’s a good skill to have.”

“That’s what Kali always said,” Blake agreed, her shoulders tensing for just a moment, “I taught Yang, actually.”

“Really?” Tai exclaimed, turning in his seat to stare at Yang, flabbergasted. “You learned how to cook? I’ve been trying to teach you for years!”

Yang snorted and shrugged, giving her dad a look of faux contempt. “Blake’s a better teacher than you, what can I say?”

“Oh, Blake’s a better teacher than me, I bet she is,” Tai grumbled and Yang laughed. Ruby came running back into the room, breathless, and leaned heavily on the island.

“Yang, this place is huge!” 

“What were you doing, sprinting around my house?” Yang asked, reaching out and ruffling her sister’s hair. Ruby batted at Yang’s arm weakly before nodding in affirmation. “You didn’t break anything, did you?”

“Oh, you know, only a few doors and windows. The usual things,” Ruby responded, flailing one arm behind her until she found a chair. She dragged it up to the island and hopped in, leaning onto her elbows. “That smells amazing, Blake!”

“Thanks Ruby. It should be ready soon, so it’s good that you came back.” Ruby cheered at the news while Yang got up to gather some bowls. “Is it all right if we eat at the island?” Blake asked and Yang glanced back at the dining room table, which was currently occupied with bearing her new suit. Everyone nodded assent and Yang laid out the bowls for Blake to fill.

The food was delicious and colorful, a wonderful mixture of vegetables and meats, served over a bed of rice. The entire family dug in, and soon the air was full of the sounds of eating, everyone too hungry to speak. Tai savored each bite and nodded with solemn approval at Blake every time he got her attention. Ruby, on the other hand, scarfed down her food, finishing before anyone else was even half done.

“Is there more?” she asked, already climbing out of her chair to check the wok.

“There’s plenty,” Blake said between bites, “Eat as much as you like.” Ruby cheered again and helped herself to an enormous portion of seconds. Yang shook her head ruefully as she watched her sister.

“You shouldn’t have said that, Blake. She'll eat everything in the house, now.” 

Ruby sat down with a thud, already shoveling food into her mouth. “I’m a growing woman! I need my food!”

“You’re going to college next year, how much more growing can you do?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Ruby said matter of factly, “Maybe I’ll be taller than you by next year.”

“Rubes, you haven’t grown an inch in five years. Just wear heels if you want to be taller.”

“Ew, no. Heels are awful,” Ruby said, sticking out her tongue in disgust. “You remember the last time I wore some. I rolled my ankle so bad I couldn’t walk for a week.”

“Wait, really?” Blake asked, pushing her finished bowl aside, and Ruby nodded in a good approximation of wisdom. Yang rolled her eyes and scooted her chair closer to Blake. 

“She’s exaggerating. We were going to some dance at Signal and she caught her heel on the pavement. I mean, it was bad, but you were walking by the next day.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have been!”

“Well whose fault is that?”

Ruby opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again as she realized that, yes, she was the only one at fault. Instead she huffed and pouted, turning away and folding her arms. Tai smirked as he watched the exchange.

“Are they always like this?” Blake asked Tai and he nodded with a heaving sigh. 

“Pretty much.” 

Blake laughed, while Ruby and Yang tried to defend themselves. Failing miserably, Yang settled her chin onto one hand and asked,

“So what are you studying next year?”

“Sociology, remember? I’ve been reading a ton trying to get ready for school.”

“It’s true,” Tai chimed in, “I swear, if I have to hear one more word about the socio-economic fallout of Atlas separating from Mantle, I’m finding a new fry cook.”

Ruby stared in betrayed shock as Yang and Blake laughed. After a moment, Blake looked at Ruby with renewed interest and asked, “Sociology, huh? What is it with you and Yang with these super high brow majors?”

“I dunno, it’s just what I’m interested in. Maybe I’ll wind up on a Deathsticks team too, who knows?”

“Oh, please don’t. I don’t think my heart can handle it,” Tai groaned, setting his bowl aside. With everyone finished, Yang asked,

“So, does anyone want dessert? I made brownies two or three days ago.”

“You can’t bake,” Ruby said incredulously, “But give me a brownie. Please.”

Blake leapt to Yang’s defense immediately, “Yang’s an excellent baker. I’ll get some brownies for everyone, and you’ll see.”

“Nah, hon, I got it,” Yang said and stood, but Blake was faster, already at the kitchen counter and pulling the tin foil off the pan of brownies.

“I’m fine, Yang. Besides, it’s your family! Sit down and talk with them.”

Yang looked back at the island to find Tai and Ruby waiting expectly, coming across more like loan sharks than family. Rolling her eyes, Yang sat back down.

There was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Yang said, standing right back up and making her way to the door. She swung it open to reveal Weiss, standing with her arms crossed, shivering the coming fall. “Oh, hey Weiss. What’s up?”

“Neo says she wants to see you here tomorrow instead of normal practice,” she said, holding out a slip of paper with an address written on it.

“Thanks,” Yang said, reading the name of the dancehall and restaurant called Junior’s Club. Apparently Neo had reservations for them. “Why are you telling me this? I mean, I appreciate it but couldn’t someone have just called?”

“Because Neo’s being difficult right now,” Weiss grumbled, “And Winter insisted that I get out of the house and stop studying Deathsticks strategy.”

“Winter said that? Gods, what happened to her?”

“I assume that Robyn Hill happened to her,” Weiss said. There was a moment of silence and she shuffled awkwardly. “How...how are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Yang said, “It was a scare, but I’m better. Just entertaining the family right now.”

“Okay, good” Weiss let out a long sigh in relief. “I’m so sorry that I had to bring up Blake and everything, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. It was stupid, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”

“Hey, Weiss,” Yang insisted, “I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to apologize.”

Weiss studied her for a moment, frowning. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. And it won’t happen again.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“I just...I just do.” How could Yang possibly convey what had happened between her and Blake? How could she ever begin to explain the connection they had, the assuredness that they would always be there for one another? How could she ever describe how much that connection grounded her? There weren’t words for it, just feelings and promises. 

“Yang!” Ruby shouted, sliding into the doorframe next to her, “The brownies are ready and-oh my gods, you’re Weiss Schnee!”

Weiss immediately threw on a fake smile and nodded curtly. “Indeed. It’s a pleasure to meet you. What’s your name?” The whole thing was canned and practiced, a falsehood relayed to dozens of reporters and thousands of fans the world over. Ruby’s response was anything but.

“Ruby! I loved your paper on the political ramifications of Deathsticks matches!” Ruby squealed, shoving past Yang so that she was face to face with Weiss. “It was a huge inspiration for me, I can’t even begin to explain how much it changed my outlook on the sport.”

The false smile wavered and was replaced by a very real one instead. “O-oh. Thank you. I didn’t think that anyone read it, to be honest.”

“I had a whole half semester on it this past year,” Ruby gushed, “and then I decided to do my senior project on it as well. I’m hoping to major in Sociology next year and do some fieldwork of my own on the subject.” 

Weiss blushed heavily, covering it up as best she could by taking a small step away from the front light. “Well, I’m glad that I had such a positive effect on you.” Yang watched the interaction with raised eyebrows. The last she knew, school papers that Ruby had been assigned magically found their way into the fireplace. This was a Ruby she might not have recognized, were it not for her trademark enthusiasm. Ruby continued to gush about the paper and soon Weiss was forced back another step by her energy. Yang put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder and said,

“So, brownies?” 

“Oh, right! Night Weiss!” Ruby said cheerfully before charging back into the house. Yang smiled sheepishly at Weiss and shrugged.

“She’s like that. Sorry.”

Weiss was smiling as she watched the space where Ruby had been a moment before. “No, it’s fine. Kind of refreshing, to be honest. It’s good to not just be a single thing in people’s minds.”

“That’s the damn truth,” Yang muttered, more to herself than to Weiss. The white haired woman started to walk away, waving as she went.

“Don’t be late with Neo.”

“Oh, I won't be.”

Weiss smirked and then turned to walk back down the main road to her condo. Yang tucked the paper into her pocket and went back inside. The rest of the evening passed quickly, awash with conversation and laughter until the early hours of the morning when Tai yawned heavily.

“All right, we should be going. I don’t want to waste this hotel room,” he said and Ruby hopped to her feet, brownie crumbs still spilling off her face.

“Hotel room? You didn’t have to do that, the place is big enough for everyone,” Yang said indignantly, feeling like she had been snubbed the opportunity to be a good hostess. 

“Well, you should have told me that!” Tai laughed as he put on his coat, “It’s no problem, honestly. But next time, we’re staying here.”

“So there’s going to be a next time?”

“I hope so. I’d really like to see you without you needing to wind up in the hospital.”

“Please,” Blake said as she started to gather up the evening’s dishes, “Come back any time!”

“If the brownies are always that good, I can’t say no,” Tai said and Ruby agreed through a mouthful of said brownies. “C’mere, you.” Tai wrapped Yang up in a hug. Ruby latched onto them, stretching her arms as wide as they could go. “You too Blake.”

“M-me?” Blake asked, nearly dropping a bowl in the sink.

“Of course. You’re part of the family.”

“Oh,” Blake’s voice broke slightly and she ran over, burying herself into the hug. She sniffled into Yang’s ear as they hugged, and Yang could feel Blake’s tears falling onto her shoulder. Blake managed to hide her tears as Tai and Ruby headed for the door, breaking down as soon as the door was closed.

Yang bundled her up in an embrace, cooing softly into her ear. Blake shuffled closer and wept against Yang’s chest, holding her tight. “What’s wrong, baby? What’s happening?” Yang asked tenderly and Blake sniffled.

“I just-it’s been such a long time since someone said I was family. Did he really mean that?”

Yang planted a comforting kiss on the top of Blake’s head. “Of course he did, hon. You are family. You’ve done so much good for us, for me, there’s no way you couldn’t be.”

Blake sniffled again and Yang led her over to the couch, where they collapsed into the cushions. Blake snuggled closer to her and Yang grabbed a blanket to throw over them. An hour passed of Blake sniffling and crying while Yang held her tight, reassuring her and comforting her. Eventually Blake raised her head and said,

“I think...I think I want to call my-call Ghira and Kali.”

“If you think it’s a good idea,” Yang said and Blake nodded, a steadfast determination filling her eyes. 

“I do. I’m gonna call them, right now.”

“Right now?”

“If I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it,” Blake replied, shifting enough to pull out her phone. She dialed and waited. “It’s probably still too early. I don’t think that even Ghira will be up right now.”

“Is he an early riser?” Yang asked and Blake nodded quickly.

“He used to be, anyway. I don’t-I haven’t spoken to them in a while. At least not very much.”

There was the sound of a phone being picked up on the other end of the line, then a deep, sleepy, “Hello?”

“H-hi Ghira. It’s me, Blake,” Blake stammered, her hand shaking as she spoke. Yang held her closer, giving what comfort she was able. She didn’t know how much it would help, this was Blake’s battle to fight. But that didn’t mean she had to do it alone.

“Oh, hello Blake,” Ghira said, “How are you?”

“I-I’m-” Blake muttered, her eyes going wide and her breathing ragged.

“Blake? Are you there? Are you all right?”

Blake said nothing, as though her tongue were caught.

“Are you okay? Talk to me Blake, I’m here.” There was the sound of someone else’s voice on the other end of the line, a woman’s. “It’s Blake, Kali.”

“Ghira,” Blake choked out, her grip around Yang tightening, “C-can I...can I…”

“What is it Blake?” Ghira asked, his voice soft and gentle. Blake sobbed and suddenly the floodgates were open.

“Can I call you dad again?”

“Oh, Blake,” Ghira said, and Yang could hear the relief, the happiness in his voice, “Of course you can.”

For the second time that night, Blake broke down into tears and for the second time that night, Yang was there for her. And this time, so were her parents. Blake talked with them for hours, the entire family crying. Ghira and Kali promised to come to Vale soon, as soon as they could, and see Blake in person. Blake promised to call them more, as often as she was able. Yang held Blake as tight as she could, feeling the shuddering sobs and halting breaths. When the call was over, Blake snuggled closer and fell asleep, utterly exhausted from the emotional toil. Yang smiled down at her and whispered,

“You are so, so godsdammed brave, Blake Belladonna.” Blake smiled softly in her sleep and mumbled Yang’s name. Yang planted a kiss on her head, then settled in for the night, and slept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always want brownies are reading this chapter.  
> Next week, Yang goes out to lunch with Neo.  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang goes out to lunch with Neo for a quick chat. Afterwards the Bumblebees prepare for their upcoming match against the Emerald Assassins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smoking and alcohol warning in this chapter!  
> This is it! The penultimate chapter of The Brawler!

The cameras flashed and the reporters roared as Yang walked into Junior’s Club in downtown Vale. By now they were hardly even a hint of a concern in Yang’s mind. She ignored them all expertly, a skill she had picked over her years as a bartender and perfected as Brawler. After all, you had to know how to block out the annoying pricks in order to keep your sanity. The moment the door closed the tumult outside was muffled. The Club was enormous, with a dance floor the size of the Bumblebee’s arena and a bar five times as long as the one back in the Burning Rose. Yang shuddered at the thought of keeping up with all those people. A dj’s booth was on a balcony on the far side of the room, complete with said dj doing a sound check. If Yang hadn’t been told to come here, she would’ve thought the place was closed. 

“Hi!” someone said.

Yang started, then found the speaker after a moment of looking around wildly. They were a small shrew faunus, denoted by the ears, dressed in a black suit with red tie. The young woman looked up at Yang with a false smile that Yang knew well, and said, “What can I help you with?”

“Uh, hi. I have a reservation for two o’clock? Under the name Neopolitan.”

The woman pranced over to a guest book on the greeter’s podium and scanned the list of names, mumbling to herself as she traced the pages with a finger. “Yes, a party of three?”

Yang had expected two. “Yeah, party of three.”

The woman nodded and led Yang away from the dancefloor and down a small corridor, through a door into a side room. Inside was a table fully set for three and Yang took the spot with her back to the wall facing the door. As she sat, the greeter said, “Is there anything I can get for you? A drink, maybe?” 

“Just water, thanks,” Yang said. The woman nodded and slipped back out the door. Yang sat a few minutes in the quiet, wondering who the mystery third person was. As the greeter returned with her drink, she gestured inside to someone in the hall. Neo appeared as if from thin air, as she had a habit of doing, and then behind her, walking as if she owned the very world, with an imperial look in her eye and a sultry motion to her step, was Cinder Fall. 

Yang nearly choked on her water at the sight of the best Brawler in the entire league. Cinder Fall slipped a tip to the greeter, who nodded politely and stepped outside, closing the door behind her. 

The moment the door closed, Cinder signed to Neo, “All the camera’s are gone?”

Neo signed, “Yes.”

“And no one’s going to interrupt us?”

“No, it’s just us.”

“Thank the gods.”

As soon as Cinder finished signing, she relaxed. It looked like she physically shrunk an inch as she let her shoulders slump ever so slightly and she rolled her neck to get out the stiffness that had settled in from appearing so superior. She no longer looked as prim, proper, and haughty, instead she appeared much more down to earth, grounded, and real. Cinder reached into her pocket, retrieving a small box of cigarettes. Popping one into her mouth, her other hand emerged with a lighter and brought the flame to the end of the cigarette. She paused and looked up at Yang, an unspoken question in her eyes. Yang shrugged. Some of the team smoked, so it didn’t bother her as much these days. After lighting the cigarette, Cinder took a long inhale and held the smoke contemplatively for a moment before letting it all flow out of her mouth. As the smoke wafted up towards the ceiling, Yang could see Cinder relax even further. She smiled, a real genuine smile, then said and signed, “Hi. I’m Cinder.”

Yang grasped her hand and shook it heartily, which Cinder seemed pleased with, “Yang. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Neo’s told me about you,” Cinder said as she sat down, tucking an arm around Neo’s shoulders, “You play for the Beacon Bumblebees, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my first season. Neo’s teaching me how to be a Brawler.”

“I heard. You couldn’t find a better teacher if you tried.” That made Neo blush and the smaller woman playfully nuzzled into Cinder’s side.

Yang watched it all with interest before asking, “So how do you two know each other?”

The two other women shared a laugh and a knowing look before Cinder replied, “She’s my wife. Neo and I are married.” 

“You never told me that!” Yang snapped at Neo, who laughed. The speed and fluency of Yang’s signing made Cinder raise an impressed eyebrow.

“Neo told me you could sign, but I didn’t know you were that good.”

“Oh, thank you!” Yand said, a warm glow spreading in her chest as she was praised for her fluency. “So, uh, how did you two meet?”

Cinder laughed and suddenly had a far away look in her eyes as she answered, “Oh, that was back when I was a rookie. Roman’s Romans came by my hometown for some practice matches, part of a charity event or some such.”

“It was to check on a tax shelter,” Neo interjected, and Yang chuckled nervously.

“Well sure it was a tax shelter, but you ran the charity like a legitimate thing,” Cinder chided lightly, which made Neo smile, before continuing, “Anyway, I was the Brawler for the rookie team I was on. We played the Romans...what was it four times?”

“Five.”

“Five times. I was the only one who could go toe to toe with Neo and keep standing. I nearly took her down a few times too.”

“She didn’t.”

“Yes I-ahem, regardless I would’ve joined the Romans if Salem hadn’t snatched me up so quickly for Grindhouse. But Neo and I stayed in touch and pretty soon we were dating, then married.”

“Wow,” Yang said, playing out a fantasy of the same whirlwind romance with Blake. It was a close second to the reality of their relationship.

“It’s been a good few years together,” Cinder said, giving Neo a squeeze.

“Well, hopefully you have many more.” Yang said earnestly, which made Cinder smile gratefully.

“Thank you Yang. Truly.” 

Yang nodded in as emotive a manner as she could and soon the conversation shifted to other things. Yang found herself explaining, for the fourth time now, how she had gone from small town bartender to rising Deathsticks star. 

“So who are you facing next?” Cinder asked, “I admit, I haven’t been keeping up with the league as much as I should be.”

“Emerald Assassins,” Yang replied. It was the last match before the championship, where the teams with the two highest scores would compete for the right to be crowned champions that season. Cinder frowned heavily, and pulled out another cigarette. 

“You’ll need to be careful with that one,” she said bitterly, “Their Brawler is a real bitch.”

“How so?”

“She likes to antagonize the competition. That’s what happened to me, when I got suspended. I had thought that she might have learned a thing or two, but from what Neo tells me, no such luck.”

“Oh,” Yang said, tucking the information away for later, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“But anyway, enough about Deathsticks. Tell me about yourself,” Cinder said and Yang obliged. The trio talked for nearly two hours, eating a delicious lunch as they did. As the meal wound to a close, Neo got up with the check and made her way to the front to pay. Yang reached out a hand to stop her, but to no avail. Cinder, on the other hand, looked happy that Neo had left the room.

“Yang,” she said, grabbing the blonde’s attention, “you have my respect. Really, you do. There aren’t many people who could rise up the ranks that quickly as a Brawler.”

“Thank you,” Yang replied, which made Cinder nod quickly before continuing,

“I need you to know something,” the black haired woman said, leaning forwards as if to whisper to a confidant, “I like you. Neo likes you. Your team, the league, the press, everyone likes you. But if it comes down to it? If we’re on opposite ends of the arena? I will not hesitate to lay you the fuck out.”

“You’ll try.” Yang’s response was automatic, the result of weeks worth of practice smack talking opposing players. Cinder smiled darkly, a strange hunger emerging in the depths of her eyes. 

Before either of them could say anything else, Neo returned. Cinder stood up and reached out a hand to Yang. As Yang shook it, Cinder said, “Well this has been lovely. I can’t wait to see you again.” The unsaid threat hung in the air as the two shook hands, eyes locked.

“Yeah, you too,” Yang said.

With that Cinder nodded and wrapped an arm around Neo before the two walked out the door. Yang let out a pent up breath. These Deathsticks players got weirder every day. Then again, what did that make her?

Yang let her bag of equipment thud to the gym floor as she approached the ring. Neo was already inside, like usual, and was busy practicing. The next match, against the Emerald Assassins, was coming up that Saturday, which meant that today Neo had insisted on a strategy meeting. Unlike their previous meetings, there were no pictures spread across the floor of the ring, no articles about the Brawler that Yang would be facing. Yang shrugged it off and climbed into the ring for practice. There was a method to Neo’s madness, that much had become clear over the course of the season. 

“Hey Neo,” Yang signed before beginning her warmups. Neo sneered back at her.

“Your girlfriend’s a bitch.”

Yang froze, lilac eyes locking with brown and pink. “What did you say?”

Neo signed again, slowly and purposefully as though teaching a child. “Your girlfriend is a bitch.”

“Neo, what the hell’s the matter with you?” Yang snapped, taking what she hoped was a threatening step forwards, “Apologize right the fuck now.”

“Why?” Neo jeered, starting to circle around Yang, “Did I hit a nerve?” She began to run backwards, the same smug smile as their very first day on her face as she rang rings around Yang. “You upset?”

“Of course I’m upset, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Yang yelled, almost forgetting to sign in her outrage. She didn’t know what Neo was doing, but she did know that no one insulted Blake like that and got away with it. 

“Then do something about it,” Neo said, still circling, “Either that or just run on home to your whore of a girlfriend.” Yang felt her eyes go red before she even realized what was happening.

She roared and charged at Neo, swinging a heavy fist at her head. The smaller woman dodged away, letting the blow sail harmlessly. Yang tried to follow up with a pair of jabs, but Neo was already behind her, and delivered two punches to her back. Yang felt the air get knocked out of her and she gasped, whipping around to cointune the assault.

Neo was on the far side of the ring, sneer still plastered on her face, “C’mon, stop flailing and hit me!” Yang charged and tried a right hook, then a left, but Neo deflected the blows excellently, sneaking under Yang’s arm and slugging her in the gut. Before Yang could react, Neo grabbed her by the leg and lifted, sending Yang tumbling to the ground.

Yang rolled away, hands up to guard her face but Neo tackled her, sending the two rolling across the ring. When they came to a stop, Neo pummeled the air in front of Yang’s face, missing by inches. Yang glared up at her, but didn’t try to fight back. It would have been useless anyway. 

“That’s what your next match is gonna be like,” Neo signed, then rolled off Yang and got to her feet. The words shot through Yang’s mind, piercing into the heart of the anger clouding her thoughts.

“Wait, what?” she exclaimed, pulling herself up to her feet, “You called Blake a bitch because of the next-what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Yang, I don’t get the best results by playing nice,” Neo replied, glowering up at her student, “I needed to see how you would react to what Mercury will be doing this Saturday.”

“Mercury?”

“Emerald Assassins’ Brawler. She’s a real piece of work.”

What Cinder had told her the day before came flooding back to Yang and she groaned, leaning heavily on the ropes. “And she antagonizes her competition. Fucking hell, Neo, there has to be a better way to teach someone about that.”

Neo shrugged and took a long sip from her water bottle, then passed it over to Yang. “Maybe. But now you know what she's trying to get out of you. She wants you to get pissed and come after her like that.”

Yang blinked and her eyes changed back to lilac. She drank from the bottle gratefully, glad that Neo had brought water instead of vodka this time. “So what? What’s the lesson here?”

“You’re hotheaded,” Neo signed back, gesturing for Yang to toss back the bottle.

Yang threw it back half heartedly, all the energy flooding out of her system as she realized that she’d been played like a fool. “Okay, but what does that have to do with-”

“Control, Yang.”

“What?”

“Control your anger during the match. Mercury’s a bitch, but she can fight. If you come after her pissed off and swinging like an amateur, she’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“Or I’ll get suspended,” Yang grumbled. Neo nodded slowly, letting out a long sigh.

“Yeah. That too.”

Yang watched her for a moment, then cautiously asked, “So that’s what happened with Cinder?”

Neo slumped against the ropes and nodded ruefully before taking a long drink of water. “Pretty much. Mercury started insulting her, but Cinder’s got thick skin. At least, she likes to think that. The moment that our marriage came into the conversation it was over.”

“And Cinder attacked her.”

“Yeah. Knocked out two of her teeth, if I remember correctly”

“Gods alive, Neo.”

“It was a good punch,” Neo agreed to the sentiment that Yang had never offered. She pushed herself off the ropes and continued to warm up. “But that’s not the point. The point is that you cannot let her get the better of you. Don’t get angry, don’t get pissy. Control yourself, and you’ll win.” She walked over and offered a hand to Yang, who reluctantly accepted the offer. “Sorry about calling your girlfriend a bitch, by the way. And a whore.”

Yang shook her head in disbelief. “You’re the worst kind of person, you know that?” Neo nodded happily before trotting over the side of the ring and reaching down to her bag. She pulled out a folder marked ‘Emerald Assassins’ and started to leaf through it, pulling out pictures and articles as she did. Soon the floor was its usual chaotic organization on strategy days. Yang sighed and ran a hand through her hair. The sooner they got down to business, the sooner that she wouldn’t have to see Neo again for a week. 

“Okay! I’ll get the condo ready for you. No, it’s no trouble, really. I have someone who can help. Just let me know when your flight’s getting in, I’ll see if I can’t get Klein to come pick you up,” Blake chartered happily into her phone, her parents on the other end. They had resolved to come to Vale within the month, after the season ended. It would be more relaxed then, a much better time for important conversations and patching up relationships. “Who’s Klein? Oh, he’s kind of the complex’s...everything. I don’t know how he does it, it’s like magic.”

Yang was seated next to her on the airship to Mistral, the team streaming across the sky on course to their next match. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on Blake’s conversation, but it was hard not to turn and watch her with such a deep, overwhelming pride that Yang thought she might burst. Blake had been talking more with her parents, several times over the past week, and the once stumbling and stammering conversations had evolved into happy discussions and jokes. Things still weren’t fixed completely, Yang could see it in the way that Blake’s shoulders would slump after she hung up, but it was a start. 

“Yes, one of my friends will help me get the condo ready. What’s her name? Yang, Yang Xiao Long. Yes, from the team. You’d like her!” Blake said, beaming over at Yang as she did. Yang raised an eyebrow jokingly, as if to ask ‘Well, who said I’m willing to help?’ but she had already agreed. Blake’s condo had been gathering dust for weeks, so unused that Winter had threatened to take it away. It would take some work to get it back into a proper living space, but after the season was over they would have nothing but free time. “She’s actually my-my girlfriend,” Blake added, a hint of the halting beginnings coming back into her voice, but she covered it up hurriedly, adding, “But she’s not like him! I know that that’s what you’re worried about, but I just...I know that she’s better. She’s been nothing but good to me.” There was a long moment of silence as her parents chewed over the information. Whatever they said in response must have been gratifying, because Blake’s face broke into a broad smile. “Yes, yes of course we can all go out to dinner. I know this fantastic seafood place.” 

The conversation continued for another hour or so and by the end of it Blake couldn’t stop smiling. After hanging up she leaned over and curled her arm around Yang’s, resting her head on her shoulder.

“You’re okay with meeting them, right?” 

“Of course, babe. I can’t wait,” Yang said, giving Blake’s arm a comforting squeeze, “At least it’ll be better circumstances than you meeting my family.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Blake grumbled but couldn’t keep the smile from her voice. By the time the team arrived at Pocket Plaza, their venue for the night, Blake was already planning out an itinerary for her parent’s visit. “...and then we can go to Maiden’s Wardrobe. Oh, they’ll love Fria, I can already tell. Then maybe we can go out to someplace fancier that evening?” she nudged Yang lightly, “You can wear your new suit.”

“You have an obsession with seeing me in that thing,” Yang teased and Blake shrugged in response.

“What can I say? I like what I like.”

They kept planning all the way to the locker room, only stopping to go about their pre game rituals. Blake was still smiling as she thumbed through her novel, one that she had read a dozen times before, but seemed to find a new enjoyment in the words. Yang watched her dreamily, leaning her head onto her hand until Weiss sat down next to her.

“Yang, I need a favor,” she said matter of factly, as though she knew that Yang would accept. Yang looked over at her with raised eyebrows and waited for her to go on. “I need your sister’s number.”

“Woah, all right. Calm down, you just met her once,” Yang said and Weiss recoiled as if smelling a terrible stench.

“What? No, not like that,” she protested, “I wanted to talk to her about sociology. If she’s going to major in it, I can give her some contacts at Beacon, teachers to get to know, that sort of thing.”

Yang balked, as the sudden feeling of being very much older than she was sunk into her heart. Gods, her sister was going to college this fall. Ruby was a kid yesterday, what happened? “I can ask her,” Yang said, fighting through her reverie, “but no promises.” She already knew that Ruby would jump at the chance. 

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” Weiss nodded curtly and started to get up, “Anything I can do in return, just let me know.”

A thought sprung into Yang’s mind, a sudden burst of realization, and she felt a devilish grin spread across her face. “Actually, you can help me right now.”

“Oh? With what?”

“I need some music. I have a feeling that I’m gonna need it tonight.”

A triumphant smile spread across Weiss’ features and she pulled out her phone. “What kind of music did you have in mind?”

The teams were assembled into lines, waiting for their turn to enter the stadium. Port and Oobleck roared and ranted, echoing around the arena and down the hall to the waiting players. The crowd cheered and chanted, shaking the floor. The Emerald Assassins were organized next to the Bumblebees, clad in emerald and silver. Next to Yang was their Brawler, number 45, Mercury Black, with a ponytail of silver hair, muscular arms folded across her chest, and a sneer on her face. 

She was saying something, probably something insulting by the look on her face, but Yang didn’t hear it. She was focused on the player in front of her as the Bumblebees entered the arena one by one. Nora, Blake, Penny, Mauve, Schill, Weiss, down the line it went until finally it was almost Yang’s turn. Mercury punched her lightly in the shoulder, as the player in front of Yang skated off. Yang turned to see Mercury jabbing a finger at her and snarling something.

Yang popped a headphone off, the sounds of Arslan’s Atrocities spilling out and she could hear the world around her again. “Hmm? What’d you say?” Yang asked, and then Oobleck bellowed,

“Number 72, Brawler Yang Xiao Long!”

Yang skated away with a shit eating grin on her face, leaving Mercury to shout empty threats at her back. For once, Yang didn’t need to fake her confident smile.

The Assassins followed the Bees into the arena as they were announced one by one. Yang kept an eye on the players, noting the green bob of number 54, Striker Emerald Sustrai, as she tore out of the entryway and began to race around the arena. When Mercury emerged to the roar of the crowd, she glared daggers at Yang, lifting up a thumb and jerking it across her throat. Yang shot her a winning smile and shrugged, spinning around on the tile without a care in the world. The crowd loved it, thundering their approval of the two Brawler’s exchange. Yang knew that the cameras were on the two of them, after all Brawlers were half the reason people loved the sport so much, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the crowd wanted to see them fight hand to hand. Yang had no intention of giving Mercury that luxury. 

The opposing Brawler was quick on her feet and a talented skater, twirling between other players and flying around the ring as she went. Lilac eyes followed her progress, studying her movements, categorizing the strokes of her powerful legs, and watching for an opening. Mercury was an expert on her feet, that much was obvious, but it seemed that her arms were left to the wayside. That, Yang decided, would be her opening. She might have been good in a straight up fight, but on a tackle Mercury didn’t seem like much of a threat.

Sun blasted his whistle and the teams organized in the center. Penny took the lead for the Bumblebees in the first half, coming to a halt next to Mercury with a friendly smile. Mercury wasn’t watching, instead glowering at Yang across the center. Yang turned to look at Emerald Sustrai and jerked her head towards Mercury, speaking just loud enough to be overheard.

“She’s got some anger to work out tonight, huh?”

Emerald looked up at her like she was looking at a distasteful meal and scoffed, but refused to answer.

“Yeah,” Yang continued, “I guess that’s what happens when you know you’re fucked, right? It’s okay though,” Yang looked over at Mercury and shot her a wink, “I’ll go easy on her.”

“All right, bitch!” Mercury shouted and took a step forward, only to be stopped by Sun’s hand on her shoulder. She slid back into place, hissing, “I’m gonna break your fucking legs, and your girlfriend’s too.”

Yang felt a lance of anger pierce her heart, but ignored it with a shrug and another smile. “Give it your best shot. Might even make me break a sweat.” A vein bulged in Mercury’s neck and she tried to charge Yang again, only for Sun to blast the whistle in her face.

“Okay, settle down everyone! Work this out after the ball drops, not before. C’mon, you’re professionals!”

Mercury settled back into line, grumbling curses to herself. Yang smirked at her and then the ball dropped.

Mercury bellowed and charged at Yang, who dodged to the side and let the attack go sailing by. The rush through the center threw off the other players, and the ball went flying to the side. Penny and Emerald raced after it, Yang whirling around to give chase. Penny was a hair faster, snagging the ball away from Emerald at the last moment. The opposing striker tried to steal it back, but Yang slammed into her and sent her flying down the arena.

Penny whipped around, allowing the Screeners to give her cover from the opposing team while she circled around and began a rush on the goal. Yang was in hot pursuit, keeping an eye out for anyone trying to intercept Penny, but her look around only revealed one thing: Mercury was barrelling right towards her, the ball forgotten. 

Yang dashed towards the side and rode alongside the edge of the ring, slowing just a hair so that Mercury could catch her. The opposing Brawler roared and pounded the tile, racing to catch up. Just before the two collided, Yang skated back and allowed Mercury to scream past and slam into the barrier. She rebounded with a yelp and fell to the floor, the crowd jeering at Mercury’s poor performance. Yang skated past and shot her a disarming smile, and Mercury bolted to her feet in pursuit.

The two chased one another around the arena, back and forth, up and down, with Yang following the ball and Mercury following Yang. 

Every time that Mercury came within tackling distance, Yang dodged aside and let her sail by, and every time the crowd roared in approval. 

Emerald made a shot on goal, only to be bowled over by Yang for her trouble. Mercury, only a few feet behind, stumbled into Emerald’s prone form and collapsed, the two star players of the Assassins winding up in a disorganized heap. “Better luck next time!” Yang called out cheerfully, then turned to race back up the arena after Penny. 

With Mercury busy and Emerald unprotected, the Assassins fared poorly, soon lagging behind 0-2. As the buzzer went off after the second goal and the Bumblebees celebrated, Yang heard Mercury yell,

“Hey, bitch!” The silver haired Brawler skated in front of Yang and squared up, “Let’s do this!” Mercury threw her deathstick aside and went to undo her helmet, only for Yang to laugh and roll her eyes before skating away. “Get the fuck back here!” Mercury screeched, hurriedly grabbing her deathstick and racing towards the center after Yang.

“All right,” Yang said with a shrug, “but you asked for it.” The whistle blasted again, signaling a new drop.

The teams assembled, and the ball dropped. This time when Mercury charged forward, Yang met her in the center. Mercury hit hard, knocking the wind out of Yang, but Yang’s positioning was better and she threw the Assassin aside with a flourish. The crowd erupted into raucous applause and Yang took the moment to pump her fists in victory.

Then there was a blinding spike of pain in the back of her head, and she went tumbling to the ground. She rolled over, blinking to try and regain focus in her eyes. Mercury was barreling down on her, deathstick raised high above her head, a battle cry on her lips. Before the blow could land, Sun blew the whistle and tackled Mercury from the side, sending them both flying.

Mercury struggled to stand, but Sun put her in a headlock with one arm and yelled, “All right back the fuck off! You’re out of here, forty-five! Get out of the fucking arena!” He wrenched Mercury to her feet and threw a red card on the ground before dragging the still screaming Brawler away.

Yang stood unsteadily on her feet, her head still spinning from the hit. Suddenly Penny was at her side, throwing a supporting arm around her shoulders, and the two skated towards the dugout. 

“Yang!” Blake shouted, forcing her way to the entrance, “Are you okay?” Yang smiled as best she could. Her head hurt like hell, but slowly things were coming back into focus.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just need to sit down for a bit. Coach?” she asked and Winter nodded curtly, sending in Schill as a replacement. Penny handed Yang off to Blake, who helped her to the bench. “Thanks Penny,” Yang called out after the Striker as she skated away. Winter waved her hand in the air, signalling for a medic, and soon Yang was under their watchful eye. After a few minutes, Yang’s vision returned to normal and the medic could find nothing wrong.

“It was a nasty hit,” the medic said, “but you’re all right. Good thing you had the helmet on.” Yang nodded ruefully and let out a heavy sigh, leaning into Blake.

“Worth it to get Mercury kicked off,” Yang muttered and Blake snorted with laughter before planting a kiss on Yang’s cheek.

“You’re weird, babe.”

Yang laughed and sat back to watch. She and Blake were put in for the second half, and by the end of the match the Bumblebees won 1-5. Without Mercury in the arena, the Assassins fell apart, only scoring after three Screeners charged Nora at once. Even then it was a close thing. 

As the team celebrated that night, Yang and Blake settled into their corner table and sang along with the drunken chorus. The only lasting effect of the nasty hit Yang had taken was a small headache. During one of the choruses, Weiss of all people leapt onto a table and shouted out,

“We’re in the final match! It’s just been announced!” The bar erupted into wild cheering and hugging, Blake nearly tackling Yang with a kiss. Yang returned it earnestly, wrapping her arms around Blake and holding her close. They only stopped when Nora slammed a pair of beers down onto their table and screeched,

“Drink up, lovebirds!”

Yang and Blake sat back up, both a healthy shade of red. The team poked fun at them good naturedly as Nora bought the team four rounds of drinks. It seemed the night was only just beginning, as everyone was lost in the euphoria of making it to the championship match. Watching the team party and Blake’s eyes shine with incredible joy, nothing could dampen Yang’s spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go! I'm so excited.  
> Also, gonna start posting some one shots randomly throughout the week. I have too many sitting around to just let them gather dust.  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the final chapter, the Beacon Bumblebees face off against Grimm Grindhouse, and Yang finally faces off with Cinder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sports related violence in this chapter!

Yang knocked on the door to Winter’s office, receiving a business-like, “It opens!” It was several days after the victory over the Assassins and most of Yang’s spare time had been spent spiffing up Blake’s condo. The place was dirty, and showed the signs of not being used in a while, but it was nothing that a little hard work and elbow grease couldn’t fix. Still, there was little time to spare preparing for the championship match, barely enough time to fit in a meeting with Winter. The call had been a surprise, usually the coach approached players after practice, but Winter had insisted that Yang come to her office that afternoon.

“You wanted to see me, coach?” Yang asked and she opened the door and stepped inside. The place looked exactly the same as when she had last been inside, months ago, if not even more organized.

“Yes,” Winter said, flicking a switch and letting the chair assemble itself in front of her desk, “I wanted you to see the consequences of your actions.”

Yang furrowed her brow and sat, her heart leaping as the chair gave way a touch. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember this?” Winter asked, grabbing the top of her holographic screen and spinning it so that Yang could see. On it was a wide shot, one of the sport network cameras, replaying the moment when Mercury had squared up for a fight and Yang had laughed and turned away. Yang nodded slowly, watching Winter as much as the footage. The coach’s eyes narrowed dangerously and she swiped the image aside to reveal a headline from the paper that read ‘Fall Reinstated! Grindhouse Fans Rejoice!’. Yang looked back at Winter to see her seething with anger, as much as the human approximation of a statue can seeth. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“No?” Yang said carefully, immediately knowing that this was the wrong answer. Honest yes, but wrong nonetheless.

“Your little stunt,” Winter snapped, pulling the footage up again, “almost got you suspended from the league.”

“What?” Yang yelled, almost leaping from her seat. Winter nodded grimly, swiping the other direction and revealing a chain of messages nearly four hundred long from all kinds of people.

“I’ve spent the last five days fighting on your behalf. The coach of the Assassins, Hazel, wanted to get you suspended for instigation. He claimed that you were egging Mercury on and that you should be punished.”

“But isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Instigate fights?” Yang protested, instantly shouted down as Winter pounded one fist on her desk.

“Only if you plan to go through with it! This, this is disgraceful!” she let out a long breath and her shoulders loosened by a hair before she continued, her voice slightly calmer. “When I won the argument on your behalf, you’re welcome by the way, the coach of Grindhouse got involved. Salem claimed that since you couldn’t be blamed for instigation, then Cinder couldn’t be blamed for her actions when Mercury instigated a fight with her.”

“But that’s ridiculous! It’s not even the same argument, Cinder clubbed Mercury in the head outside of play!”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s ridiculous or not,” Winter hissed. Yang recoiled and shrunk into her chair, suddenly feeling like she was a very small mouse before a very large owl. “The league commission sided with her. That means that Cinder’s suspension is lifted. And you know who we’re facing in the championship match?”

“Grindhouse,” Yang said, deadpan. Winter nodded severely, one hand clenched into a fist. “But we beat Grindhouse before. I mean, it was tough but we did it.” Indeed they had, earlier in the season. The players left over after Cinder’s suspension were vicious and brutal, but the coordinated teamwork of the Bumblebees had prevailed. 

“Not when they had Cinder. She’s going to be back with a vengeance,” Winter said, “And you can bet that she’ll be coming for you.”

“Me?”

“You’re the golden girl this season. She broke the last one’s back, I have no doubt that she wants to add another to her collection.”

The color drained out of Yang’s face and she felt her body go cold. This was a nightmare. It had to be. Winter continued, unabated.

“If you don’t manage to take her out in this match, we will lose. There’s no two ways about it.”

“B-but how do I beat her?” Yang managed, “She’s crazy good.”

“That’s putting it lightly. I don’t know how you’ll do it,” Winter grumbled, “But figure it out. And be sure to let Blake know. I presume she’d prefer to find out from you than me. Now get out of my office.” Yang nodded quickly and had to force herself not to bolt for the door. 

The ride back to the complex was cold and unfriendly. Yang felt like her heart was freezing over, her limbs going numb. There was no way, she thought, no way to beat Cinder. The only hope the Bumblebees had at winning the season was after Cinder had been suspended. And it was Yang’s fault that she had come back. That was the fact that hurt the most. 

The thought of what she was going to tell Blake hurt just as much.

There was a bouquet of flowers on the front steps, addressed to Yang. She picked it up without even registering it for a moment, and stepped inside the condo.

“Hey babe!” Blake called out, “What did Winter want?” Her cheerful demeanour dropped when she saw Yang’s gaunt expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh,” Yang stammered, sitting down at the island heavily, “I...Cinder’s been reinstated.”

“Oh gods,” Blake whispered, taking a seat next to Yang, “How?”

“Apparently I hammed it up too much with Mercury. Winter had to fight for days so I didn’t get suspended and somehow the league comission got convinced to let Cinder back in.”

“Oh...oh no…” Blake breathed out, then her eyes narrowed as she saw the flowers. “What’s that?” Yang handed it to her numbly and Blake looked over the flowers. “It’s for you, it says. Let’s see...lilies, chrysanthemums, orchids...Oh gods, Yang.”

“What?”

“This is the kind of bouquet you see at a funeral.” She checked the tag again, flipping it over to reveal ‘Love, Cinder’ and a heart. Blake frowned as she looked at it, then placed the flowers on the island with a shrug. “Seems a bit melodramatic.”

“What?” Yang choked out, “How can you be making jokes right now? Blake, she’s going to kill me out there. And then she’s going to-going to come for you!” Yang could have, would have, gone on but Blake reached out and placed her hands on Yang’s shoulders, smiling at her softly.

“No she’s not, Yang.”

“What?”

“She’s not going to kill you out there,” Blake said firmly, and squeezed Yang’s shoulders gently, “Because we’re going to have each other’s backs. We’ll take her down together.”

Yang stared blankly at Blake for a moment, then a smile cracked through her hanging frown. “Protecting each other, right?”

“Exactly. We’re protecting each other,” Blake affirmed and pulled Yang in for a hug. Yang felt the strength of Blake’s arms, the determination in her steady grasp, and the courage in her solid heartbeat. Despite everything, despite her fear, Yang felt a piece of that same courage seep into her own heart. Things would work out, as long as she and Blake looked out for one another. 

The next two weeks of practice were a somber affair. Everyone knew that Cinder was back in the league, and although Yang knew that no one blamed her she couldn’t help but feel responsible. 

“It was the commission’s fault,” Weiss would say, “They shouldn’t have listened to Salem. The argument is too weak.”

“Don’t worry Yang!” Penny would say, “We all have your back!”

“It’ll be fine,” Blake would say, “She won’t be able to take us down.”

“Break her legs!” Nora would shout.

In fact, the only person who didn’t seem to be on Yang’s side was Neo, though Yang couldn’t exactly blame her. If anything, Neo only got more smug as the weeks wore on, and said that she might as well not train Yang. “It won’t change anything,” Neo signed during training one evening, “She’s going to kick your ass.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that Neo?” Yang shot back and Neo nodded happily, seemingly well pleased with herself. That only made Yang train harder than before, and she often spent an extra hour in the gym practicing on the punching bags. By the time she got home she would collapse into a chair, scarf down some food, kiss Blake goodnight, and then pass out in bed. 

Every day, Yang got up at the crack of dawn and trained as hard as she could and every day it seemed like nothing was changing. 

“Neo doesn’t have to be such a little shit about it,” Yang grumbled one night as she was wolfing down her food, “I mean, I get it, they’re married, but she could at least be a bit more friendly about it.”

“Would you be?” Blake asked, “if it were me?”

Yang sat back in thought, finally taking the time to chew the several mouthfuls of food she’d shoveled into her mouth. “I’d try to be. Don’t know how well it’d work,” she finally said and Blake snorted into her soup, shaking her head.

“I still can’t believe that she took you out to lunch.”

“Well, that was before she got reinstated. I didn’t really think much of it.”

“Didn’t she threaten to lay you out?” Blake asked incredulously, throwing an arm around Yang’s shoulders to get her to slow down before she choked. Yang nodded quickly and, with great effort, slowed her pace.

“I mean, yeah, but that’s just kinda how Brawlers are,” she said, “Oh, gods and Jaune was so right.”

“He was?” Blake asked, astonished at the very idea of Jaune being right about anything, “About what?”

“She  _ is  _ a peach.”

Blake snorted again and nuzzled her head against Yang’s shoulder. “Maybe after you beat her we can take them out to dinner sometime.”

“Old Man Shopkeep’s?”

“You know it.”

Fortunately the match against Grimm Grindhouse was a home game, allowing the team to rest an extra day before the championship. The streets were flooded with people leading up to the match, all of them wearing the jerseys or other merchandise of either Grindhouse or the Bumblebees. Crews worked night and day to install gigantic holographic screens to broadcast the match throughout the streets of Vale. Initial estimates said that every seat in the Aerodome was sold out, and that there were nearly a million fans flocking to the city besides. On top of that, the match was projected to be watched by nearly a hundred million people across Remnant. Even people who never watched usually tuned in, the Deathsticks championship match was practically a holiday. 

Yang felt like puking at the very thought of being seen by that many people. The locker room the night of the match was unusually quiet, everyone going about their normal rituals to prepare for the game. Nora cracked a joke and a few people laughed halfheartedly, but it died out soon after. Yang couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing as she waited, neither folksy tunes or metal music calming her nerves this time. 

Weiss was seated next to her, the sound of her music cutting into Yang’s own. She was staring blankly at the cards of Deathsticks strategy in front of her, idly flipping through but not seeing anything. Nora wandered around the locker room, tightening her teammate’s pads and making sure their helmets were on straight. Blake thumbed through her novel slowly, going back to reread passages several times over. Even Penny was subdued, her usual smile only a shadow of its former self. Aside from Nora’s failed joke, no one spoke until Winter stood up and snapped her fingers to get the team’s attention.

“Listen up, everyone,” she said, waiting patiently until everyone had looked up and removed at least one earphone, “we all know what’s at stake with this match. If we win, then we become champions. If we lose, we become laughingstocks. As everyone is aware, this match is going to come down to Brawlers.” She shot at glance at Yang, who still couldn’t keep her leg still. “But that doesn’t mean we can rely on them completely. This is a team game, and I expect to see your best teamwork yet. Support each other, and don’t get caught out alone. Grindhouse may not have very good Strikers, but they hit hard. Yang!” Yang looked up to meet Winter’s eyes, “Salem will put in a replacement Brawler for the first half, number 34, Bea Wulf. Take her down quickly, but don’t waste your energy. The real fight is with Cinder.” It was the same advice Winter had given her at practice earlier in the week, and Yang had already committed it to memory. “Now, remember. I don’t care how you win, just do it.” With that she stepped aside and Sun Wukong stepped in to take her place.

“Evening everyone,” he said, and nodded jerkily at Weiss, “Snow angel. You know the rules. You know what not to do. So let’s, uh, let’s play some Deathsticks!” He tried to inject excitement into his voice, but it petered out before even beginning.

Yang stood and double checked that her gear was properly situated. Soon the team was filing out of the locker room. Blake stopped for a moment in front of Yang and smiled softly up at her.

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“No matter what happens tonight, I’m with you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I think I’ve always known.”

Blake’s smile grew and she leaned forwards to catch Yang’s lips on her own. The two kissed for a moment, then Winter yelled for Blake to get in line. With a quick peck on the cheek and another smile, Blake skated off towards the entryway. Suddenly Weiss was in front of Yang instead.

“You two are ridiculous,” she huffed and Yang forced a smile.

“Jealous?” 

“Wh-no!” Weiss yelped before whipping around and skating off with another huff. The smile fell from Yang’s face as soon as Weiss had gone and soon it was her turn to fall in line. 

The team organized in the entryway to the arena, next to the black and red uniforms of Grimm Grindhouse. All of the opposing players were huge, hulking people, all of them easily as broad as Yang and many taller besides. Yang tried not to let it unnerve her, with little success. 

“So,” Cinder said next to her, “I suppose I should be thanking you for getting me back into the league. The way you dealt with Mercury was simply divine.” All of the friendly demeanor that she had shown over lunch was gone, replaced with a pompous, self-satisfied air of superiority. “Maybe I should go easy on you,” Cinder considered, and Yang finally turned to look at her, meeting her amber eyes and finding nothing but contempt. “After all, watching you play is just too much fun. I wouldn’t want to ruin that. Then again, I do have a reputation to uphold.”

Yang tried to speak, tried to find something to come back with, some cutting words that might break the smug confidence written all over Cinder’s form. She rested one hand on her hip and leaned towards Yang.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, then jerked her head towards the front of the line. Towards Blake. “Cat got your tongue?”

Yang grit her teeth and turned back to the front as Port and Oobleck began to announce the players. One by one, Grimm Grindhouse filed in, to thundering applause. Yang was glad that the Aerodome was levitating, otherwise the very earth would be shaking beneath them. As Cinder’s name was called, she smirked at Yang and blew her a kiss before skating off. 

The Bumblebees started to skate into the arena, all of them doing their best to not give off a hint of the nerves they were really feeling. As Port yelled Yang’s name she plastered on her smile and skated into the arena. It felt like her first day back at the bar, like she was utterly unprepared for what was about to happen. She had no chance of beating Cinder and she knew it. It would be like fighting Elm, but with more pride on the line. Yang tried not to be prideful, but even she knew that losing now would likely spell the end of her time in the arena. If she wasn’t forced to head back to Patch, she might as well-

“Yang!” 

Yang whipped around towards the stands. Behind her, right above the Bumblebees dugout, were Tai and Ruby. Ruby had a jersey with Yang’s 72 on and she was whooping loudly as Yang entered the arena. Yang broke in a full on smile and waved wildly at them. The crowd went nuts, every one of them thinking that the wave was for them, but it was all for Tai and Ruby. Yang could feel her anxiety lessen, ever so slightly, like the cold grip of fear loosened its stranglehold on her heart. 

“Go Yang!” Ruby screamed and started jumping up and down. Tai waved a huge black and yellow foam finger. Yang pumped her fists in the air and her family cheered harder. 

As Yang turned to begin skating around the arena she caught Winter’s eye. The coach’s eyes gleamed with mischievous intent but all she did was wave for Yang to keep warming up.

The buzzer went off and Sun blew his whistle. The teams organized in the center. True to form, the Grindhouse’s second Brawler Bea Wulf was in the starting lineup. Penny took the lead as Striker, with Blake and Weiss waiting in the wings for the second half. Yang sized Bea up as they waited for the ball to drop. She was big, as big as Yang or more, but she kept sliding back on her skates and cursing. That kind of instability was all that Yang needed to take her down. 

The ball dropped and there was a scramble as the players fought. Yang shoved the Grindhouse’s Striker, number 75 Mia Ursa, to the side, only to look up and see Penny struggling to regain her balance further down the arena. Mauve, the Screener, struck out and knocked the ball away from the center.

Penny sprinted towards the ball and Bea Wulf tore after her. Yang tried to push through the center only to be tackled from the side as Mia Ursa smashed into her from behind. It wasn’t enough to actually throw Yang off balance, but it was enough to slow her down. Fortunately Penny was still one of the best Strikers in the league, dodging around Bea Wulf’s clumsy attempt at a tackle. 

Yang set her sights on the struggling Brawler and bowled her over, sending the woman sailing across the arena. Then it was after Penny, who was already neck deep in Grindhouse Screeners. Immediately Yang was on them, smashing the line apart and giving Penny the opening she needed to breeze through. She slammed a shot at the goal and the Goaltender, number 74 Maya Ursa, tossed it aside as though it were nothing. 

The Grindhouse Screeners sent the ball back down the arena, and everyone went chasing after it. Mia Ursa got hold of it and tried for a shot, but Nora caught the ball with one hand and hurled it back to Penny.

The teams rushed back and forth, up and down the arena for the better part of the first half. With only a minute or so to go, Bea Wulf tore out after Penny and Yang saw her chance. She slammed into the other Brawler, who roared in pain as they plummeted to the tile. They skidded across the tile and rolled onto her back, holding one of her legs and groaning. 

Sun blasted his whistle and play stopped. A medic ran into the arena at the behest of the Grindhouse coach, Salem. Yang could hear them talking with Bea Wulf as they helped her up.

“I can’t-I can’t put weight on it, man. It’s too painful.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it, are you sure that-”

“It fucking hurts, man! Let me sit out.”

The medic sighed heavily and led Bea Wulf out of the arena. There was an eruption of applause as Cinder stood and rolled her shoulders. She shrugged in a ‘What can you do?’ kind of way and then stepped into the arena. The crowd went nuts, the stadium suddenly transforming to a sea of black and red as the best Brawler in the league skated into the arena. She locked eyes with Yang and winked. Yang didn’t return it with even a smile. 

The players assembled in the center again after the substitution and there was a shift in the air. Penny looked like she was trying to slide as far away from Cinder as possible without being called offsides. The rest of the Grindhouse players were grinning like loons while all the Bumblebees grimaced. 

The ball dropped.

Immediately Yang was sent flying backwards as Cinder rammed into her, Penny thrown aside without a second thought. Yang tumbled back to her feet and skated after the ball, which was now firmly in Mia Ursa’s grip. She never got close. As soon as she started to skate towards the Striker, Cinder slammed her aside and sent her spinning, then turned and bashed through the Bumblebees defensive line like it didn’t exist. 

Nora screeched as Cinder careened into her, hurling the Goaltender aside and letting Mia Ursa slam the ball into the goal. The buzzer went off as the score ticked to 0-1. Cinder skated by Yang who had only just gotten to her feet. 

“Don’t feel too bad, Yang. I am the best, after all,” Cinder chuckled as she passed. 

The rest of the half, only another thirty seconds, passed by in much the same way. The ball would drop and Cinder would obliterate the Bumblebee’s defenses. By the end of those thirty seconds the score was already 0-4.

The team met in the locker room, beaten and dejected. Winter was slumped on a bench next to her sister, muttering “A disaster. A godsdammed disaster.” Yang looked up at Blake who smiled shakily. Now that the time was on them to play against Cinder together, things weren’t looking good. 

Yang’s phone went off and she looked to find a message from Neo, reading, “She hates crowds.”

“What?” Yang grumbled to herself, throwing her phone back into her bag. There wasn’t even a customary go around by Winter to give notes. Instead, everyone sat in their stupor and glowered at the ground.

The second half began, this time with Blake and Weiss in the starting lineup. Cinder smiled sweetly at Blake, who glared back at her. Weiss eyed the opposing Brawler for a moment, then nodded subtly as if deciding something grim.

Just before the ball dropped, Yang heard Ruby shout, “You can do it Yang!” It was a warm drink on a cold day, piercing through the oppressive weight of anxiety and doubt. A reckless thought crossed her mind, like a fisherman out in a raging storm. Maybe they could do it, if they just pushed hard enough.

The ball dropped and Cinder lashed out, but Blake was ready. She darted aside and returned the tackle with strength born of fury and desperation. She ricocheted off the Brawler, but it was enough of an opening for Weiss to snag the ball and skate away. Yang stuck with her, following her movements. Cinder charged after them, flanked by two Screeners, clearing the road to Weiss. 

Just before they caught up, Weiss whipped the ball to Blake who was already deep in the arena. Immediately afterwards, Cinder slammed into Weiss from behind, sending her flying with a horrible scream as she slammed hard into the tile. Yang grimaced and chased after the ball, arriving just in time to toss aside a tackle attempt. Blake flashed her a smile before feinting a goal attempt. The Goaltender reached out to catch a ball that wasn’t there, and Blake smashed the ball into the opening left behind. 1-4. The celebration was short lived.

There was shouting further up the arena and the players turned to see Weiss snarling at Cinder, jabbing her finger towards the Brawler.

“Really, Schnee? You wanna do this?” Cinder laughed and Weiss shouted,

“Yes! Fight me, bitch!”

Yang shouted for them to stop, and started skating towards the pair but it was too late. Both of them had already thrown their deathsticks aside and undone their helmets.

Sun blew his whistle.

Yang had expected the fight to be over in one punch. Instead, Weiss bobbed and weaved with the same relentless efficiency she demonstrated in skating, letting Cinder punch empty air instead. 

It didn’t last. 

Cinder feinted a high jab and when Weiss made to dodge the attempt she found Cinder’s fist in her gut. The Screener gasped and her eyes bulged, then Weiss snarled and lashed out with her fists at blinding speed. Cinder blocked the attacks, one, two, three, four, five, six, but then seven hit home, right in her mouth. 

Cinder reeled backwards, holding her mouth in shock. She looked at her hand, covered in blood from a split lip. Yang was close enough by now to hear her say, “Huh. Not bad.” Then Cinder wailed on Weiss with everything she had. Weiss made a valiant attempt at holding her off, but to no avail. One of Cinder’s punches slammed into Weiss’ temple and sent her spinning across the arena. Weiss grabbed the ring and tried to steady herself, but then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed.

The medics rushed out and carried her away, Winter racing after them. Cinder looked back at Yang with a smug grin and waved with one bloody hand. Yang’s heart sank.

Sun blew his whistle and the match resumed. The minutes rolled by, agonizingly slow. The score didn’t change, but every time the players raced up and down the arena Cinder slammed another one around. Anyone that was out of line was Cinder’s target and found themselves in a world of hurt. Yang could only watch, every attempt at taking down the opposing Brawler ending in humiliating failure.

Yang watched as another one of their teammates was taken out of the arena by the medics. Nora signaled for the match to pause, to get some time to coordinate, and Sun obliged.

“All right, everybody,” Nora said, the most serious that Yang had ever seen her, her eyes narrow and her shoulders set. “We need a plan to deal with Cinder. We can’t keep going out on our own, she’ll take us out one by one. I’ve played a match like that, it isn’t pretty.”

“So what do we do? If we don’t spread out they can flank us and then we don’t have any response to when they get the ball,” Blake shot back, gripping her deathstick like her life depended on it. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It’s just that every time someone leaves the group they get punished for it. There has to be something we can do,” Nora moaned.

Then it clicked.

“She hates crowds,” Yang muttered to herself, then her head snapped up. “I have an idea.” The team turned to look at her with expressions ranging from curious to distrustful. “If we can get Cinder on her own without any support, I can take her on. We just need to get her out of line.”

The team shuffled their feet and looked around at one another for a long moment, then Blake said, “I’ll do it.”

“Blake, no, you’re our best Striker,” Yang protested, taking a step closer to her. “And I can’t-I won’t let you get hurt.”

Blake reached out and cupped Yang’s cheek, smiling tenderly. “I won’t get hurt. I’ll draw her out, and you’ll take her down. We’re a team, remember?”

“Protecting each other,” Yang mumbled and Blake nodded. Nora stepped between them, her eyes only for Yang.

“But what happens if you do get Cinder out of line? Even if you tackle her she might not go down. She might challenge you to a fight. You saw what happened to Weiss.”

Yang sighed and shrugged, standing back up to her full height. “I guess that’s just a risk I’ll have to take.” 

There was a long, tense silence, then Nora sighed and waved her hand for play to continue. “Fine, but don’t blame me if you get a broken jaw.” Yang smiled as best she could.

Sun blew his whistle and play resumed. The teams lined up in the center and the ball dropped. Blake snagged the ball, vanishing behind Cinder before anyone could even see what had happened. She swung wide, so wide that there was no one able to support her. Cinder charged after her, on an intercept course, a date with death. 

Well, almost no one was close enough. The moment before Cinder hit Blake, Yang smashed into her from behind, sending the Brawler spinning. She slammed heavily into the ring and doubled over, only to stand right back up as if it hadn’t happened. The two Brawlers locked eyes, circling like a pair of dogs fighting over scraps.

“So,” Cinder growled, “are we going to finish this?” Yang nodded. The two of them tossed their deathsticks aside and undid their helmets. Yang ran a hand through her hair, letting the blonde locks cascade down her back. The crowd might have roared at that, but she didn’t hear them. Port and Oobleck were shouting something, but it fell on deaf ears. She only focused on Cinder, who had knelt down and undone her skates. So that was how it was. 

Yang stepped out of her skates and settled in on her feet. This time there was no ignoring the crowd, the entire stadium shaking so hard Yang worried it might fall from the sky. Cinder settled into a fighting stance across from her, raising her fists. 

Sun blew his whistle.

The two flew at one another, a dizzying display of punches. Yang swung hard at first and jabbed second, deflecting Cinder’s powerful, focused strikes as best she could. The two women didn’t even bother with proper form, turning the fight into a slugfest immediately. Yang blocked a wild haymaker from Cinder and countered with a jab. The blow was thrown aside and suddenly Cinder’s left hook slammed into Yang’s cheek. 

She stumbled backwards, one hand on her cheek as soon as she had some breathing room. Cinder gloated from where she stood, beckoning Yang to keep trying. After a moment of recovery, Yang barreled back in.

It was a mistake. Cinder lashed out and her fist collided with Yang’s face. She felt her nose break before she heard the sickening crunch and reeled back, stumbling over her feet and nearly falling.

Cinder didn’t let up, bludgeoning Yang with strikes. Yang held up her right arm in an attempt to stave her off and there was a blinding flash of pain accompanied by a horrifying snapping sound. Yang’s arm flew backwards, her elbow bent the wrong way. Yang screamed and collapsed, scrambling to get away from Cinder’s advance.

Sun raced over to them, raising his whistle to his lips but Cinder held up one finger, silencing him immediately. She whirled towards him and snarled, “Don’t you fucking dare.” Sun shrunk away, whistle hanging uselessly from his lips.

Yang’s breaths were hard and fast as Cinder approached. She couldn’t get away. This was going to be the end of it. Cinder stooped over her and Yang assumed that, could she have gotten away with it, she might have planted a foot on Yang’s chest. 

“Looks like the golden girl can’t win them all,” Cinder sneered, “I hope you don’t stay out too long. I would hate for you to miss me doing to Blake what I did to Pyrrha.” She reared back and swung down hard.

A howl tore out of Yang’s throat and she lashed out with her left fist, landing a punch in Cinder’s left eye. Cinder screeched and fell back, but Yang latched onto her jersey, pulling her to the ground.

Despite the pain from her arm, despite the blood gushing down her face, and the way that her entire body wanted her to just fall back and rest, she leapt on top of Cinder. She planted one foot on Cinder’s left arm, and a knee on her right, and raised her fist in the air above her face. 

For a moment nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

“Well?” Cinder growled, “Do it.”

“Give. Up.” Yang hissed.

They glared at one another for a solid minute. Then Cinder sighed and tapped out.

Yang rolled off of her and screamed as the pain from her arm shot through her body. The medics were on her before she knew what was happening, helping her out of the arena and to the locker room. She looked back over her shoulder through bleary, tear stained eyes to see Blake arguing with Winter and trying to push past to follow. Winter shouted something at her and Blake swore furiously.

Yang’s vision went black.

She woke up in the locker room, her arm in a simple cast and her nose roughly held in place. Weiss was on the opposite bench, her head wrapped in bandages and holding an ice pack to her temple. “You’re finally awake,” she grunted and Yang groaned, wishing that she wasn’t.

“How long was I out?” she asked and Weiss shrugged. 

“Not that long. The medics almost got into a fight trying to keep your father from getting in here.”

“Yeah,” Yang said and sat up as best as she was able, her arm sending a spike of pain in protest. “That sounds like him.”

The sound of Port’s voice came out of a speaker in the locker room, “That’s another goal for Belladonna! Six so far, and she shows no signs of slowing down!”

“It looks like she has a vendetta!” Oobleck added. The room quaked as the fans cheered.

“Gods alive,” Yang groaned, “She’s insane.” Weiss nodded in agreement. “I love her. So fucking much.” Yang fell back onto the bench and lay there for a while, listening to the match. By the end of the match, the Bumblebees pulled off a win, 9-6. The entire stadium sounded like it was roaring in triumph and the team soon came pouring into the locker room. Nora screeched in victory and Penny cheered wildly as they saw Yang and Weiss. The whole team descended, gently, to congratulate them on the win.

Yang only had eyes for Blake. The amber eyed woman sat down next to her, helping her to sit up. When they kissed, the entire team roared in approval, and the two blushed heavily.

“So,” Yang said, “We’re champions, huh?”

“You’re damn right we are,” Blake said and kissed her again. “We need to get you to the hospital, babe.”

“No,” Yang whined softly, “I just left.” Blake snickered and leaned in for another kiss. As long as she was able to be with Blake, Yang knew that everything would work out just fine.

Yang gently placed her broken arm on the dining room table of Blake’s condo, her feet propped up on a chair. Blake was busy finishing up the final preparations for the arrival of her parents. Yang had tried to help, but after her second stint in the hospital in as many months, Blake had abjectly refused.

The entire team had come to visit her over the course of the day she spent in the sterilized room. Weiss still had the bandage around her head, Penny couldn’t stop talking about what a phenomenal championship match it had been, and Nora had dragged along her boyfriend Ren, who Yang had taken a liking to immediately. Winter’s demeanour had been as stiff and professional as ever, but even she couldn’t help the proud twinkle in her eye as she talked with Yang. By the following morning, a pair of flower bouquets had arrived, one from Pyrrha and the other, to Yang and Blake’s great surprise, from Cinder. Attached was a note that read,

“Sorry about the arm. And, you know, threatening to break your girlfriend’s back-C”

Below it was scrawled a hasty, “She really means it-Neo”. 

Yang decided that the flowers livened up the place and Blake was already planning out which vases to place them in back home. 

Tai and Ruby had stayed in Vale for the rest of the week, helping Yang get used to her new situation and making sure that Blake also got plenty of rest. ‘Just because your champions or whatever doesn’t mean you’re allowed to work yourselves to death,’ Tai had said. It was no use fighting, and soon the four of them were busy preparing the condo and having a lovely time in Vale.

Ruby had adored the city as they toured it, visiting all their favorite spots and taking the family out to eat at Old Man Shopkeep’s. The whole time she couldn’t stop talking about how much fun it would be to live in Vale. An equal amount of time was spent gushing about how much she was learning from Weiss. Once connected the two talked constantly, so much so that Yang had to take Ruby’s phone away so she would spend time with the family. Ruby had stolen her phone back so quickly it was like Yang had never had it to begin with. 

Yang had never had so much fun cleaning a house than when she did it with her family. Within days the dust covered mess had become a sparkling clean living space worthy of royalty.Throughout it all, she and Blake were inseparable, doting on one another so much that it made Ruby gag. 

It didn’t matter much to Yang. She was just happy to have Blake with her. 

“You know, Blake,” Yang said, looking around to make sure they were alone. Tai and Ruby were busy outside, hacking away at the hedges that surrounded the condo. “My cast is going to need a check soon. Would you mind helping?”

“Maybe I would,” Blake said coming over and settling in Yang’s lap, “But you’re not getting any special treatment this time.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Your sister nearly walked in on us last night! It would’ve scarred her for life.”

“What? You were just checking my cast,” Yang protested.

“Right,” Blake said, rolling her eyes, “In the shower, with you so preoccupied you weren’t able to speak.” Yang smiled guiltily at that, though the twinkle in Blake’s eye showed that she didn’t really mind. “Besides, you’re too loud for that with family here.”

“I’m too loud? You’re one to talk,” Yang teased, reaching up to stroke Blake’s cheek. Blake leaned into the touch, humming softly. Yang’s gaze softened as she listened to Blake. “So what else needs to get done before your parents arrive?”

“This and that,” Blake said, grabbing Yang’s hand and kissing it lightly, “but that can wait a bit longer. We have time.”

“Yeah,” Yang said, gazing up at the love of her life. They did have time. They had all the time in the world. There weren’t words to describe how she felt, not really, only approximations. But she knew that Blake understood, just as well as she understood Blake. They fit together so perfectly, all their broken bits and shattered pieces forming a beautiful tableau. They were a stained glass window with sun streaming through, a mountain weathering every storm, a place to come home. 

Life went on, like it always did. Blake and Yang stayed together, happily in love, like they always would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! I'm gonna miss the Brawler, and I'm really glad that everyone enjoyed it so much. Yang and Blake get to ride off into the sunset as champions.  
> But don't worry! There's another long fic coming out soon, probably today because I'm impatient and proud of it. This time-The bees go to space!  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments always appreciated!  
> Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> The start of my first long form fic! I'm excited for this one. Going to try and upload once a week, on Fridays. For the record, chapter length is going to vary wildly in this fic. I'll admit, I didn't plan out my chapter breaks terribly well.  
> Comments are always appreciated!


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